


No Homo

by Delia_Maguire



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Real World, Best Friends, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunken Confessions, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fantasizing, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Jealous Minho, M/M, Nightmares, Nudity, Party, Possesive Minho, Protective Minho, Sassy Minho, Sharing a Bed, Showers, Side Nalby, Teen Romance, Tropes, Underage Drinking, thominho - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-15 17:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13617960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delia_Maguire/pseuds/Delia_Maguire
Summary: “What if…,” Thomas began, spreading out his hands and pausing mid-sentence for dramatic effect. “We say no homo.” He finally concluded, giving Minho a questioning look, one eyebrow quirked and a smug smile pulling at his lips, as if he's just said the most ingenious statement ever uttered by man. Minho stared at him blankly for a moment, running over the suggestion over in his own mind, checking it for flaws and finding none, before slowly beginning to nod his head along to the idea.“That could work.”





	1. Home

“You want to throw a housewarming party?” Minho questioned his friend incredulously, staring at him as if he'd just grown a second head as he set down the box of dishware he'd been carrying forever and wiped an unfortunate sleeve against his sweaty forehead.

He and his best friend, Thomas, were both shucking broke, like, broke as hell, broke but this was nothing unexpected for kids their age. They were two unemployed teenagers trying to make their way through college on Runner’s scholarships alone and student loans sure as hell weren't cheap. After Minho’s parents had finally given him the boot, moving in together and splitting the rent had simply been the most economically sound solution for both of them and it was nothing uncomfortable since they stayed the night with each other most of the time anyway. Just two bros who were way behind on their mortgage finding a cheaper way to live. But a house warming party…

“Sure, people give you free stuff at those, right?” Thomas explained excitedly, popping the cap off a water bottle and bringing the container to his lips, downing half the liquid inside before wiping his mouth on his sleeve and handing the drink to Minho.

“I don't know…,” The Korean boy replied hesitantly, taking the bottle from his friend and making quick work of the rest of the water before tossing the empty bottle aside to be worried about later. “It might seem a little gay.” He finally admitted, scratching the back of his head awkwardly as Thomas leaned back on his heels and began humming softly in thought as he mulled over his friend's concern. Suddenly the brunette snapped his fingers, grinning like an idiot as Minho waited patiently to hear his solution, silently hoping his friend had actually figured out a way to win then free gifts without looking like a couple of queers.

“What if…,” Thomas began, spreading out his hands and pausing mid-sentence for dramatic effect. “We say no homo.” He finally concluded, giving Minho a questioning look, one eyebrow quirked and a smug smile pulling at his lips, as if he'd just said the most ingenious statement ever uttered by man. Minho stared at him blankly for a moment, running the suggestion over in his own mind, checking it for flaws and finding none, before slowly beginning to nod his head along to the idea.

“That could work.” The Asian boy finally declared, sounding genuinely impressed with his friend’s intelligence as Thomas let out a victorious whoop and pumped his fist into the air before falling into an off-key jingle of “We're gonna get free stuff! We're gonna get free stuff!”

That was how the asian found himself in his current predicament, groaning in pure agony as Newt asked the same question he’d been forced to endure time and time again all shucking day.

“So, you and Tommy finally decided to unlock the bloody closet door?” The brit inquired cheerily, holding out a large, poorly wrapped parcel for the irritated boy to take and wearing a smirk that made Minho want to punch him in the face. The bright blue paper was coming untaped from a smushed cardboard box underneath and a bright pink makeshift bow was sliding steadily sideways off the top.  

“No!” Minho snapped a little too quickly, snatching the present away from the kid, ripping the already tarnished paper slightly in the process as, from somewhere across the room, a simultaneous protest was practically screamed by Thomas. The teen released Newt from his pointed stare, tearing his dark eyes away from the blond to where his housemate was currently glaring daggers into his sister, Teresa. However, the pale girl was too busy leaning on some chick with short cropped, brown hair that Minho didn't recognize to keep from collapsing into a heap as laughter stole her breath away to even notice. The brunette dropped his head into his hands in defeat, running his fingers exasperatedly through short, untamed hair before letting out a dreadful groan loud enough for Minho to hear across the small room. The Asian boy quickly took it as an excuse to free himself from the awkward conversation Newt had him locked in and made his escape, nodding over at a miserable looking Thomas as an explanation and practically darting away as the blond waved him off with a knowing smirk and a small, victorious laugh.

Thomas's head snapped up as his friend approached, not even bothering to acknowledge his sister or her friend, who were now both drowning in a hysteria of snorts and giggles, as he stormed away from the pair and retreated to Minho's side.

“Who's the new chick?” The dark haired boy questioned the smaller teen as he led him over to the gift table to drop off Newt’s peace offering as well as the items Thomas had accumulated.

“I think her name's Brenda?” The slightly younger of the two answered uncertainly, tapping his finger against his chin as he struggled to remember. “I had a thing with her back in like, middle school or something.”

“Then what's she doing here now?” Minho demanded, the heated words springing from his lips before he had a chance to restrain them and he quickly snapped his mouth shut before anything else stupid could pour out. He didn't know what or why, but something Thomas had said sat wrong with him, stirring an unknown feeling inside his chest and sending a quick, fiery burst of anger coursing through his blood.

“I don't know. Ask Teresa.” Thomas replied, looking sideways at his friend expectantly, one, questioning eyebrow quirked but received no explanation. “She brought a real, name brand Kurrik and two boxes of K-cups to get us started, so what's it matter?” The boy asked, laying the item in question and its companion boxes of coffee on the gift table as he spoke and Minho simply nodded, turning to get back to the party before pausing as something caught his eye.

“These are all dark roast.” The Asian boy pointed out matter of factly as he reached for one of the boxes and showed the truth of his statement to a crestfallen looking Thomas. “You hate bitter things.”

“Well, shows you how well that relationship went.” Thomas muttered unhappily, plucking the worthless coffee from his friend's hands and tossing it behind himself in irritation. “Bitch doesn't even know what kinda coffee I like.” He grumbled dejectedly before begrudgingly immersing himself in the process of entertaining guests and for some reason… That made Minho feel better.

When the party had finally come to a close, Minho eagerly ushering the last few stragglers out his front door before slamming it closed behind them, all the the Asian boy wanted to do was sleep. Exhaustion weighed down his limbs and clouded his mind as he leaned against the door to keep from collapsing right then and there, never having felt as drained as he did after dealing with his dumbass friends questioning his sexuality All. Shucking. Day. There was only one problem - Since Thomas and him had just moved in, they had failed to procure beds just yet and he was not about to sleep on the dusty, freezing wooden floor. He had just began to mull over this dilemma when, as if summoned by his thoughts, Thomas’s voice suddenly sounded from where he’d been hiding out in the kitchen until Minho herded their friends away.

“Do you have any idea how much mattresses cost?” The boy practically screeched as he stumbled into the room at top speed and nearly plowed down Minho as he skidded to a haphazard stop. However, the brunette made the mistake of wearing socks and socks alone and his body kept sliding forward until he hit that of his friend, who was barely able to catch them both as he was hit by the careening mass of boy that was his bestie.

“Probably at lot less than the hospital bill for a broken leg.” Minho groaned irritably as he steadied the pair but Thomas remained undeterred and waved what appeared to be a furniture magazine over his head before slamming it angrily onto the table in front of them, jabbing his finger incessantly at a number that looked much longer than Minho thought it should.

“Holy shuck.” The dark haired boy breathed, running his hands against his eyes in disbelief as he stared at far too many digits for either of them to afford.

“What are we gonna dooo?” Thomas wailed miserably, flopping dramatically onto the cheap wooden coffee table and remaining blissfully ignorant to the cursed magazine he was ruining in the process. Minho pressed his fingers firmly against the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut in concentration as he pondered the problem. If they pooled their money, they could maybe afford one, twin sized mattress if they really tried but there was no way in earth, heaven, or hell they could afford two. The Asian boy couldn't suppress a groan as realization settled upon him and he was forced to face the only option they really had, unless they wanted to spend the rest of the lives on a dusty floor in some cheap sleeping bags, that was. He risked a peek over at Thomas, finding he had pulled himself up into a sitting position and was now cross legged atop the table, which creaked and groaned dangerously under his weight.

“You're going to fall through that and I'm not going to help you.” Minho asserted, trying to change conversation and prolong the inevitable but Thomas wasn't having it and continued on as if he other boy hadn't spoken.

“As long as we stay on opposite sides of the bed it should be alright.” The brunette assured his friend optimistically, as if reading the Asian boy’s mind. “We've done it before.” He reminded his companion, conveniently leaving out the part that it had never been for more than a night at a time and that they'd always used the king sized mattress Minho’s parents refused to let him take.

“It’ll be fine as long as we say no homo.” Minho claimed, unsure if he was informing Thomas or himself of this fact as he moved to grab his car keys and headed for the door, his friend on his heels.


	2. I’ll stay on my side, if you stay on your side

Mattress shopping turned out to be the most boring thing on the face of the Earth. Thomas had drug the pair into what had to be every furniture store in a hundred mile radius, claiming they needed to evaluate all their options despite the fact that every bed they’d considered looked nearly identical to the last fifty two they’d seen if you asked Minho.

“Thomas, please, it’s late. I’m begging you. Just. Choose. Something.” The teen tried for the thousandth time in the last hour as his friend rolled experimentally atop yet another mattress before shaking his head and declaring it a no-go. “I’m exhausted. You’re exhausted. If we don’t get home soon, I swear I’m just gonna go to sleep on one of these.” The tired boy groaned, gesturing around himself at the plethora of options Thomas had already ruled out. Too soft. Not soft enough. Too firm. Not firm enough. I don’t like springs. Memory foam feels weird… The list went on and on.

“But, Min!” The younger boy protested stubbornly, propping himself up on his elbows and pouting like a child whose parents had told him it was time to leave the zoo. “I’m not even that tired!” He tried but the lie was lost on the Korean who knew the boy well enough to pick up on the little known hints that betrayed his companion’s true energy level. The way they boy blinked a little more often than usual and subtly leaned against him when they walked from shop to nearby shop was proof enough for him.

“C’mon.” Minho finally caved with a huff, gripping the smaller boy by the wrist and hauling him up off the most recently declared unworthy mattress before leading him out of the store. “We’re at least getting coffee before we continue this ride through hell.”

“I think we’re pretty close to The Glade. We could probably walk there.” Thomas agreed reluctantly, looking a little miffed to have his hunt for the perfect bed interrupted but letting himself be led away nevertheless. The Glade was a tiny Starbucks rip off that the boys had been going to since it had opened because it was run by Frypan, a buddy of theirs, and Alby, Newt’s long time boyfriend, worked there. The dark-skinned boy was always pretty easy to worm a discount out of if they name-dropped the blond - He was also far too easy to mess with, so the shop was always their go to.

The walk was, as Thomas predicted, short and the stone walls of the coffee shop were soon in sight, the soft glow of its dim interior lights pouring out of the windows and into the dark street, beckoning the pair foth to bask in their warm rays. Minho reached the door first, tugging open the large, glass barrier and slipping inside before quickly pulling it shut behind himself before Thomas could enter, unable to stifle a bark of a laugh as the kid walked straight into the unexpectedly closed door.

“Not you two.” A familiar voice pleaded, drawing Minho’s attention away from Thomas, who’s stream of curses were muffled by the thick glass as he continued to hold the door shut against the kid’s fruitless tuggs.

“You know you love us, Alby!” Minho declared, flashing the boy a winning smile and finally releasing his grip on the door to allow his grumbling friend entrance, ignoring the elbow dug angrily into his side as Thomas finally came to stand beside him.

“Minho!” Thomas gasped, forgetting his momentary irritation and smacking his hand against his mouth in faux horror, finding playing with the unfortunate cashier to be a much more worthwhile endeavor than fighting his friend. “Don’t let Newt hear you say that!” Thomas cooed in a teasing voice, snickering victoriously as Alby flushed and spluttered out a few unintelligible sounds.

“If you two promise to leave immediately after finishing your damn drinks, I’ll take three bucks off your order.” Alby bargained desperately as they pair made their way to the counter, each wearing a victoriously smug smirk as they nodded their agreement to the deal.

“I gotta piss, just get me something as dark as my soul.” Thomas quipped, turning to Minho as he spoke before scurrying away to the bathroom on the far side of the cafe, pausing right before he pushed open the door with a blue stick man on it to wink suggestively at the already miserable Alby. “I promise I won’t tell Newt if you guys follow!” He grinned as the dark-skinned male flipped him off, merley wiggling his eyebrows in invitation and blowing the two boys still standing at the counter a kiss before finally retreating to the bathroom.

“I’ll take five off if you make it to-go.” Alby moaned returning his attention to Minho who merely smirked even wider, letting all who doubted the pair’s cunning know that had been Thomas's plan all along.

“Sounds fair!” Minho replied cheerily, sarcasm dripping from his lips. “Gimme the Keeper’s special. Thomas will take a white chocolate mocha.” He listed off, sobering up some as he pulled out his wallet and slapped the bargained amount down on the counter.

“I thought he wanted something as ‘dark as his soul?” Alby questioned distractedly as he pushed off the counter and began moving around the out-front kitchen, going over practiced procedures with routine perfection.

“Have you ever met Thomas?” Minho scoffed lightly and Alby merley gazed thoughtfully at the white liquid he’d been steadily pouring into a cup he’d scribbled the word “Asshat” onto before nodding in understanding. “Besides, Thomas hates-”   

“Bitter things. I know, Minho.” Alby huffed, popping the lid on the finished drink before scrawling the title “Dickface” onto a similar cup. “You’ve told me. 17 different times, in fact.”

“Told you what 17 different times?” This question came from Thomas, who had resurfaced and now swooped in to grab his finished coffee off the counter, humming contentedly at the feeling of the warm cup in his hands. “That mattresses are hell to find?”

“Mattresses aren’t hell to find. You’re just a picky little brat.” Minho sighed, leaning nonchalantly against the counter as he spoke.

“I think Gally is selling his old one.” Alby suggested as he put the finishing touches on Minho’s drink but Thomas shook his head adamantly.

“I’m not sleeping on anything Gally even touched.” The teen asserted, sticking out his tongue and shuddering at the thought. “I could get aids!”

“See, this is what I’m talking about, picky bratt.” Minho groaned in defeat. “And that’s not even how you contract aids, Tommy - You’d have to let Gally buttfuck you for that.” He continued, causing Thomas to literally gag, and he snickered as honey eyes widen in pure horror, relishing the small revenge for letting the boy drag him all over town.

“Jesus Christ, I hate you guys.” Alby moaned, seemingly wracking his brain for any other option, wanting nothing more than to get these two idiots out of his hair. “I think Teresa mentioned having a friend who actually owns a small furniture shop. Maybe she’ll give your broke asses a discount.”

“Aw, you’re the best Alby-boo.” Minho cooed as the boy scribbled down the details of the shop and shoved the scrap of paper into his hands. Thomas was too busy swallowing half of his coffee in one long gulp to take any notice of the new development, eyes glazing over blissfully as the liquid met his lips.

“Oh my god, Min. I love you.” The runner purred, proving any misconceptions Alby had about the Asian’s drink selection wrong. “No homo.” He added quickly before immersing himself in the beverage once more, causing the cashier to roll his eyes in pure disbelief.

“You all don’t still actually say that, do you? What are you, middle schoolers?” Alby scoffed before falling into a fit of laughter, ignoring the confused looks the other two boys were giving him.

“You’re just upset because you and Newt didn’t, and now look at you!” Thomas protested but for once his teasing didn’t affect the African American, who held his stomach as he wheezed.

“You know sodomy is technically still illegal in 12 states?” Minho tried but Alby waved him off as he fought to regain his breath and the Asian kid had no choice but to turn on a heel and retreat from the coffee shop, a disgruntled Thomas at his heels.

The two were over the experience by the time they’d made it to the place Alby had recommended, sleepiness overruling embarrassment and desperation coming to settle over the pair. It was nearly midnight and they were running on two hours of sleep and barely enough caffeine to keep them walking by the time they reached the address scribbled out on the small notepad. Hope lit in Minho’s heart that perhaps the ordeal was finally drawing to a close as he parked his car but it was snuffed out as quickly as it had come when his eyes fell on the building they’d driven all this way to find. The small, brick structure sat empty in the street, not a single light prevailed from inside the many glass windows lining its front and no movement could be seen as the pair approached it, hoping against hope they’d see something different if they got up close.

“Are you sure you don’t see anyone in there?” Thomas asked, desperation creeping into his voice as he moved to press his face against the glass and peering frantically inside. Minho merley groaned in response, running his hands through his hair in exasperation as he blinked weakly at the motionless interior of the furniture shop.

“I hate you sometimes, Thomas. Really, I do.” The Korean boy huffed out, reaching to grab the back of the kid’s shirt and pull him off the window, ready to drag them back home and accept the fact that he’d be spending the night on the floorboards.

“Tom?” Someone suddenly called out as Minho pried his friend away from the glass causing them both to freeze as they turned toward the sound, a frown inexplicably playing on the Asian’s lips. Someone was coming from around back of the closed shop and walking towards them, their features concealed in the shadows of the alleyway, and it wasn’t until the person reached the main street and the fluorescent radiance of a street light fell on them that Minho recognized the girl Teresa had brought to the housewarming party. For some reason, the use of the nickname made his blood boil and a quiet voice in the back of his head whispered to him that someone who had been absent from the boy’s life for so long shouldn't approach him with such familiarity.

“Thomas.” The brunette corrected, sending a wave of relief over Minho, which he chose to ignore completely as they both turned to stare questioningly at the newcomer.

“What are you doing here?” Minho asked, the words coming out a little sharper than he intended them to as he quickly released Thomas’s shirt, which he hadn’t realized he’d kept hold of until he saw the girl’s eyes flick to where his hand still gripped the fabric.

“This is my store.” The chick... Brenda? Yeah, Brenda deadpanned, crossing her arms as she eyed the pair. “The better question is, what are _you_ doing here?”

“We need to buy a mattress or our asses are stuck sleeping on the floor tonight.” Thomas explained hastily and Brenda laughed lightly, softening slightly and waving them over to where she stood by the front door.  

“I just closed up but since we’re friends, I guess I can cut you a sale real quick.” The girl mused, pulling a ring of keys from her belt and opening the large glass doors that stood between them and the holy grail of mattress paradise inside. Minho fought back the rising urge to scream that they were not, in fact, friends and drag Thomas someplace, anyplace, else but they were out of options, he knew that. So even when Brenda added, “Can’t let a cute thing like you get cold and lonely on the floor,” he begrudgingly bit his tongue and followed her inside, repeating that he had no reason to be angry like a mantra in his head and stubbornly ignoring the inexplicable feeling of rage pooling in his stomach.

Thomas didn’t reply and after a moment of awkward silence Brenda began a spiel about the different aspects to consider when choosing a mattress, none of which Minho could bring himself to care about as he made sure to stay firmly between his friend and the irritating girl. They passed boxsprings, and memory foam, and everything under the sun, neither boy really saying anything until Brenda finally asked the fateful question.

“So, what’s you guy’s budget?” The girl inquired, a salesman like professionalism to her demeanor as Minho handed her a slip of paper he’d worked the math out on earlier and she finally let her smile falter. “Damn, you guys really are broke.” She practically giggled, earning a groan of acknowledgement from Thomas and a “you-hadn’t-noticed?” scoff from Minho. “Well, I’ve got a twin innerspring hybrid that might not be too unbearable and should come under that price range.” She finally admitted, leading them over to a small section of twin sized beds and gesturing to one of the many options that still looked no different than any of the others to Minho.

“Sounds perfect.” Thomas replied instantly, taking Minho back as he, for once, did not roll about on the mattress to test it for quality. The dark haired boy produced the pair’s pooled funds for the purchase and tried not to look too relieved as he finally handed the money over to Brenda and could be done with this shit. The three of them then each lifted a side of the bed and began shuffling awkwardly out of the store with it, Thomas and Minho on each of the ends and Brenda supporting the middle, pausing every few moments to catch their breath until they finally managed to haul it to Minho’s car. Fighting it into the small hatchback was a completely different matter, but after what felt like hours of grunting, and shoving, and Thomas practically leaping on the trunk, they managed the task.

“Hey, did you know Gally’s throwing a party this weekend?” Brenda abruptly announced after a few moments of the trio laying against Minho’s vehicle, panting in unbroken silence for what felt like an eternity.

“Yeah, I think I heard Teresa mention it once.” Thomas replied carefully, a note of obvious questioning to his voice.

“Well, you guys should totally come! I heard he hired a DJ and everything! It’s gonna be lit!” Brenda propted, grinning as she looked from one boy to the other, each of whom were too busy looking questioningly at the other to notice. “Free booze.” She finally huffed out, rolling her eyes as the pair shrugged simultaneously at the offer.

“What time?” Minho finally questioned, for he and Thomas were both dumb college kids who could never turn down a free drink, especially when money was so tight.

“Tomorrow, 8:00!” Brenda whooped excitedly before springing off the car and sauntering down the street, leaving Minho to wonder where the hell she got so much energy at 3 in the morning and how he could get his hands on whatever magic drug the girl had.

By the time they had gotten into their own car and were finally on the way home Minho had managed to convince himself that his earlier anger was probably just do to him simply being a good friend. Being protective of one’s best friend was simply to be expected. It was just his job as Thomas’s number one bro to make sure he didn’t get screwed over and Brenda… Brenda… Well, he just didn’t like her, okay? He was Thomas’s friend, it was his duty to just know these type of things.

“I don’t like her.” Thomas mumbled almost too softly for Minho to hear, his voice so quiet and uncertain he almost didn’t catch the words as the long awaited sight of their apartment met his eyes. Minho looked over at him questiongly as he finally parked the car but Thomas wasn't looking at him, his eyes stubbornly fixed on the dashboard as his friend tried to get him to meet his gaze. The boy gave the impression he didn't know why he said the words any more than why Minho knew he was relieved to hear them, running hands together thoughtfully and biting his lip as honey eyes filled with confusion.

“Help me get this mattress out of the car, shank.” Left Minho’s mouth instead of anything related to the conversation like he’d intended to say; but Thomas seemed relieved to be free of the spotlight, immediately shaking his head as if to clear the confusing thoughts and springing into action as if nothing had ever happened. With some work, they managed to free the fluffy bed from the confines of Minho’s hatchback and each got their hands under a side as they began making their way into the apartment.

“Shuck. It looked a lot lighter in the store.” Thomas gasped, sounding like he very well might collapse from pure exhaustion at any given moment as they pushed the thing up the stairs.

“If I die...” Minho panted out, squaring his shoulders as he heaved the thing onto its side to get it through the front door. ”Remember that I love you.” Then he quickly added, “No homo.”

“No homo.” Thomas agreed breathlessly as they finally got the mattress inside and things got a little easier, both of them taking a side once more as they drug the weighty item to the bedroom. Finally, after fighting to get the bed through one more doorway, it lay in its final resting place at the far end of the cramped little room the two had dedicated to sleep. The pair exchanged one exhausted but victorious look before barely having time to scramble out of their day clothes and collapse onto their prize, the heavy haze of sleep that had been threatening to overtake them for hours bearing down upon them like a ravenous beast.

“No homo.” One of them whispered sleepily into the darkness, though neither were quite sure which one had said it.

“No homo.” Came the equally exhausted reply and it was the last thing either of them heard before unconsciousness overwhelmed them and they fell claim to exhaustion’s poisonous claws.


	3. Hot (Water)

As usual, Minho was the first to wake up. It had always been that way. Ever since they were kids who would beg their parents to let them stay at one another’s house, Minho would wake up first. It was the same when they were high schoolers and Thomas would climb through his window to escape his family for the night. Every time, without fail Minho would be stuck watching the slow, steady rise and fall of his friend’s chest, eagerly awaiting the moment honey, hazel eyes would open and he could finally leave the bed without running the risk of waking the other boy.

This morning proved to be no exception to the continuing trend, sunlight creeping slowly in through a dusty window above the mattress and ghosting across his face until its presence began to bother his sensitive eyes. The Asian boy groaned in protest, burying his face into something soft to escape the dawn’s probing rays and returning blissfully to sleep’s embrace as he breathed in the sweet smell of white chocolate mocha and let it lull him. His arms encircled something warm and he pulled it closer to himself as the night’s chill settled over the room, snuggling closer to the much needed heat and letting out a contented sigh as the warm thing wiggled back into him, letting their combined heat accumulate until the cold was no longer uncomfortable. Now, if only the boy didn’t have something soft tickling right under his nose he could perhaps get some damn sleep. 

Minho reluctantly blinked himself into wakefulness, the incessant tickle of the unknown fluff becoming unbearable until he was unable to ignore the irritating feeling and he unhappily forced his dark eyes to open. He wished he hadn’t. His gaze was filled with the familiar mousey tones of Thomas’s untamed hair and Minho became acutely aware of their situation, his arms having wormed their way around the middle of the other boy sometime in the chilly night and pulled him close until they were practically spooning, bare skin pressed against bare skin. They were both wearing nothing, save for a flimsy pair of boxers, and they were cuddling. Shuck his life. 

“No homo!” Minho shrieked in pure horror, springing away from the bed like a cat out of water and pushing off Thomas like a launching pad, sending the younger male rolling off the mattress with a dull thump. Honey eyes blinked slowly in confusion, the haze of sleep still hanging over the smaller boy as he pulled himself up from the floor and stretched his arms over his head in a lazy yawn, the situation not having dawned upon him. Everything about the kid seemed to say “tired.” His scruffy, brown hair stuck up at odd angles and fell down into his half-lidded eyes, which caught the light perfectly, the weak glow of dawn picking out unseen golden flecks in the orbs. The boys lips were parted slightly as he tilted his head, wakefulness slowly beginning to settle over him and realization suddenly jolting him into awareness, eyes widening as a pink flush ghosted across his cheeks.

“It's probably just because we forgot to grab any blankets.” Thomas suggested squeakily, the words catching in his throat as he kept his gaze locked firmly to the floor boards. “No homo.” He clarified certainly, beginning to get over his initial shock and both of them relaxed at the words.

“No homo, man.” Minho nodded surely, shaking off the experience quickly. They were just two bros that happened to get cold during the night. Cavemen huddled for warmth, right? It was totally manly. Not gay.

“You wanna go for a morning run?” Thomas inquired, wholeheartedly soothed by their declaration of straightness and ready to get on with the day. 

“That party isn't until late, we've got time.” Minho agreed eagerly, already moving to a nearby cardboard box that still held his running clothes. If there was anything better than a morning run, it was a morning run with Thomas. 

The two managed to get dressed relatively quickly, though Thomas did nearly faceplant trying to pull on his jogging pants and it was only thanks to Minho’s quick reflexes that he didn't start the day by busting his nose off the floor. They decided to opt out of breakfast, Minho merely grabbing a slice of toast and an apple on their way out the door for them to eat later, both equally eager to get on with their run. The pair was quiet as they moved down the wet, dew stained steps and into the empty street, sharing a silent, private, look then a quick smile before Minho nodded and they took off like a shot. 

They moved in sync, Minho leading in the beginning but Thomas quickly coming up to take a place at his side as he shook the last reminding tendrils of sleep that clung to him. The steady drumbeat of their feet pounding against the cracked asphalt was the only sound that prevailed in the empty streets as the sun climbed over the horizon and drowned the world in an ocean of fire, driving away the deep purples that still clung to the orange stained clouds. Their breath aligned, the long practiced ritual of running together a familiar song that their bodies harmanozied to on instinct, their movements fluid.  It’d been that way since they were running buddies on the elementary track team; a right, speed up, a left, turn here, slow up…  They moved as one, as if they could sense the other’s movements before they were made.

The sharp, ear shattering sound of squealing tires broke through the familiar song, shattering the quiet of dawn like a rock sent through a stained glass window, the sound of rubber burning against pavement causing Thomas and Minho to stumble as their rhythm was interrupted. A black sedan screamed into view, turning down their tiny street at top speed, tilting slightly on its side as the driver whipped it into the tight turn before slamming back down on all four wheels and roaring onward. Minho darted to the left, leaping out of the street and to the safety of the sidewalk as the car rocketed towards them, but Thomas stood frozen, his honey eyes blown wide like a deer in the headlights as the thing came at him, swerving across the street with no regard for the yellow line. 

“Thomas!” The dark eyed boy called out, desperation evident in his strained voice as he realized his friend hadn't moved and he turned back to help him. The boy’s scream jolted the brunette from his stupor and he stumbled toward him but the car was too close, as if the driver hadn't even noticed the teen or simply didn't care enough to stop. Minho lurched forward, moving toward the boy as fear gripped his heart and it pounded angrily against his chest, threatening to burst if he didn't get Thomas out of harm's way immediately. He gripped the smaller boy by the sleeves and yanked him towards himself as hard as he could, sending them both stumbling backwards as the weight of his friend hit him.  

The momentum of the brunette slamming into him was too much and Minho could do nothing but wrap himself around the kid for protection and brace himself as they fell against the concrete underfoot, the sound of the car roaring past and the driver’s horrible cackle ringing through the air. The Asian boy gasped as the breath was knocked from his lungs as first his back slammed into the ground and then his friend fell atop him, effectively breaking every bone in his body - Or so it felt like - But he didn't try to escape the pinned position. He felt Thomas’s fingers twist into the material of his shirt as the boy whimpered out a breathy “oh god,” and he couldn't bring himself to worry about the bruises that would undoubtedly mar his poor back later, too concerned with his friend to get up at the moment.

“You okay, Tom?” Minho questioned softly, propping himself up and running his eyes over his friend, checking the boy over for any visible injuries and only allowing himself to relax slightly when he found none.  

“Yeah. Thanks, Min.” Thomas replied quietly, a slight waiver to his voice as he stared earnestly into dark eyes, as if he were trying to communicate everything he didn't know how to say with that one look. The boy pushed himself up so his arms lifted his chest from Minho’s but his movements were slow and shaky and it wasn't until the Asian began to follow his lead and pulled them both to their feet that they finally made it up. 

“Come on, let's go home.” Minho suggested, forcing his voice to be light and uplifting, smiling to himself in satisfaction when his friend nodded in agreement and stood a little straighter, apparently taking comfort in Minho’s stability. Despite that, the Korean kept his arm slung securely over the younger boy’s shoulder and didn't let him go. He told himself it was for Thomas’s benefit but really he couldn't convince himself to release the kid, not when the near disaster still played behind his eyes. As they walked through the once again quiet streets some small voice in the back of his mind told him he should probably take his arm off his friend's shoulder or at least say “No homo” but he could still feel the boy shaking slightly as he pressed against his side - So he didn't. 

The walk home went relatively quickly, considering their run had been cut short by some asshole in a sedan trying to mow down Minho's best friend but he didn't mind too much. After running for maybe an hour or so before about having a heart attack he felt disgusting and was pretty sure he smelled like a gym locker room. Thomas had slowly recovered as they walked through the no peaceful streets, letting the warm morning sun and Minho’s stabilizing grip on him sooth him, so now that Minho didn't have to worry about him so much, all the Asian cared about was getting a shucking shower. As they approached their destination and the apartment slowly came into view however, it quickly became apparent that the brunette had other ideas.

“Dibs on shower!” Thomas declared suddenly, shoving Minho back as he took off for the house, sprinting up the steps and slamming the door behind to him slow the pursuit of his friend as the Asian tore off after him.

“Shuck no, you don’t!” Minho retorted, nearly tripping over himself as he rushed after the smaller boy, letting the closed door slow him for only a moment as he struggled with the doorknob in his hurry. The Korean won his battle against the cursed door in a matter of seconds, kicking it shut behind him as he scrambled after Thomas’s retreating form, barely catching sight of the boy’s backside as he rounded a nearby corner. Darting forward, he was able to catch the teen by the wrist and hold him still for a moment, but where he was strong, Thomas was quick and the kid easily twisted from his grip, squirming frantically until he was free. 

“Respect the dibs!” Thomas protested in a squeal, breaking free of the Asian’s hold and tearing off down a small hallway that would inevitably lead him to the much sought after bathroom, Minho right on his heels. The Korean ignored his desperate plea, feet sliding against the slick wooden floor as he charged down the hall after his friend, unwilling to relent, even if the usually unquestioned rule of “dibs” was called into question. Thomas had almost reached the door, hands stretching forward to grab the brass knob that would guarantee his freedom. His fingertips barely brushed against cold metal before he was suddenly slammed into the wooden barrier. Minho smashed into the smaller boy, unable to slow himself as he finally caught his friend, pressing him into the door with the force of his momentum, eliciting a muffled “oomph” from the captured teen. 

“Thomas, you and I both know there’s only enough hot water for one shower and I smell like a pigsty!” Minho growled, placing a hand on either side of the brunette's head, efficiently pinning him as he used the weight of his body to keep the squirming boy in place, pressing himself against the smaller male to keep him still when he tried to worm away.

“Minhooo!” Thomas whined unhappily, wiggling uselessly under the weight of the runner’s muscled body. “I can’t go to the party like this! I’m literally drowning in sweat!” 

“Tommy.” Minho implored, feigning relentlessness when really he could feel his resolve crumbling by the second. “There’s no other option!” He groaned, wracking his brain pathetically as the smaller boy pressed back against him in an attempt to shove him off, panting with the effort despite the fact that Minho didn’t budge. There was no way either of them were going to let the other have a peaceful shower, that much was obvious, but he couldn't think of a single option that didn't involve…. Thomas stilled underneath him, diverting him from his quickly derailing train of thought and back to the pinned boy, whose mole speckled cheeks were flushed, a bright pink ghosting across pale skin as his chest heaved with panting breaths for some inexplicable reason. Minho marked it off as strain from their struggle.

“We could always say no homo.” The younger boy finally suggested in a wavering, uncertain voice, his face still turned into the door so Minho couldn't read his eyes and the Asian forgot how to breathe. It was as if someone had sucked every breath of air from the Korean’s lungs and his heart had decided beating really wasn't worth the effort anymore, sitting still in his chest for a long moment before exploding into a pounding, erratic rhythm. It wasn't as if he'd never seen Thomas naked before, for shuck’s sake he'd been on a running team with the kid for years. He'd seen the lanky teen strip down in a locker room countless times, had even let him borrow his clothes on occasion. He really shouldn't be that affected, but seeing someone naked and sharing a shower with them were two incredibly different situations. 

“It's really the only way, isn't it?” Minho finally sighed in resignation after a few long moments, pushing off the door and allowing Thomas to turn around and face him. The younger boy nodded slowly once, then shrugged easily, forcing the awkward mood to dissipate as he slapped a hand against his friend’s shoulder and shot him a ridiculous grin before suddenly turning and opening the door.

“We've done it before.” Thomas tried for the second time that week, again conveniently leaving out vital information like the fact that they were six the last time they’d done such a thing as he strolled into the light blue room, Minho trailing him reluctantly. The teen began pulling at the hem of his ruined shirt almost immediately, leaving Minho to whip around in a pathetic attempt to save some dignity as he began tentatively tugging his own sweat drenched garment over his head. The sound of Thomas preparing the water could be heard in the background as Minho forced himself to keep his eyes locked forward, unsure why he felt it would be so wrong to look towards his friend. It shouldn't be a big deal, he told himself stubbornly as he slid his fingers under the waistband of his jogging pants and then his boxers, tossing them both somewhere to the side as he finally drew in a deep breath and turned back towards the shower, trying not to feel too relieved as he saw Thomas had already climbed inside and was hidden safely behind a shower curtain.

How bad did he need a shower? The runner was beginning to doubt if this was all really necessary as he moved toward the tub, steam beginning to pool from above the curtain. However, the reek of his own body odor wafted up to remind him of its presence as he paused right before the shower, hand reaching out and fingers twitching in uncertainty as he hovered over the plastic curtain. He had to. Reluctantly, with one last, heaving sigh of resignation, he pulled the white material aside and stepped inside the shower, stubbornly keeping his eyes anywhere but on Thomas. 

The brunette appeared almost completely unbothered, humming contentedly as he scrubbed shampoo into his soaked hair, the familiar scent of lemon and soap emanating from the boy as he tangled his fingers undeteredly through his sudsy locks. The teen’s eyes were closed to avoid getting soap in them and his head was tilted back, long neck exposed, leading down into pronounced collarbones and a sculpted chest. The kid was lean, but in no way less strong than Minho, the toned, pale expanse of skin revealing tight muscles as his abs trailed downwards to where the lines of his hips - Stop. Do not look lower, Minho. DO. NOT.

Averting his gaze, Minho quickly began busying himself with sudsing up a scrunchy, ignoring the way water droplets clung to Thomas’s lashes when he opened his hazel eyes and stumbled back slightly as if he didn't expect Minho to actually be there as he did so. The younger boy recovered almost instantly though, closing his lips, which had fallen open in surprise, and handing the bottle of lemon shampoo over to his friend in exchange for the soap. Mumbling a thanks, the Asian worked the cleansing gel into his thick, dark hair, relishing the feeling of grease dissipating and running down his back, eventually disappearing down the drain.

“Min?” Thomas quipped, bringing the boy’s attention back to him, despite the his valiant  efforts to focus on anything else. 

“That's me. Tomorrow we'll work on your name.” Minho replied snarkily, a smirk tugging at his lips as Thomas tried to stick his tongue out at him but only succeeded in getting soap in his mouth, gagging comically and spitting wildly. The brunette shot him a pointed glare before an awkward look came over his face and he shuffled uncomfortably about, eyes locked on the ceiling.

“Can you scrub my back? I can't reach.” The teen finally sputtered out, his face flushed again, though that was definitely because he had the water way too hot. Definitely.

“Sure. As long as you do me.” Minho replied, forcing an easiness into his voice. “Wash my back, I mean.” He quickly clarified, rethinking his previous words as he felt his own face begin to heat up, shucking hot water.

“Thanks man! No homo!” Thomas chirped, seemingly unbothered by his friends poor phrasing as he shoved a scrunchy into his hands and whipped around, bracing his forearms against the slick shower wall for stability. 

“No homo.” Minho shot back casually, refusing to let the words catch in his throat as they tried to, not voicing the repeating anthem of “It's not gay if you say no homo. It’s not gay. It’s not gay. It’s not gay” that rang in his head - Though it was rather difficult to not feel gay when one was standing in a shower with his best friend braced against a wall. The Asian steeled himself, stubbornly filling his mind with hetero thoughts as he reached out and began running the soap soaked scrunchy over his friends back, forcing himself to ignore the contented hum the action elicited from the boy. He moved slowly across the muscled expanse of the runner’s skin in smooth, rhythmic circles, ghosting over arched shoulder blades before trailing ever lower toward the small of the teen’s back. As he worked, he absolutely did  _ not  _ think about how Thomas looked, soaking wet, hair dripping, pushed against a wall with Minho’s hands running all over his body. He also did  _ not _ think about what his friend felt like under his grip, letting out small, breathy moans of contentment when Minho added a little more force to the scrubbing as he finally dipped down into the small of his back - He 100% did  _ not _ think about what other sounds the boy could make if he were dragging his nails along the pale expanse of sensitive skin instead of some stupid sponge.

“You are literally my favorite person on the face of the shucking planet.” Thomas purred when his friend finally completed the task, pushing himself off the pale shower wall with a satisfied huff while Minho whipped around as to avoid any uncomfortable sights faster than you could say “I’m trying to hide a boner.” Thomas didn’t seem to catch on to his friend’s urgency however and leaned forward easily to receive the the scurchy, placing one hand against Minho’s back for stability as he outstretched the other expectantly, apparently oblivious to the smothering tension hanging in the air. The runner plopped the poof into his companions hand and forced himself to relax as Thomas moved back to begin his work - They’d said no homo, hadn’t they? Then it was fine; They were just two bros helping each other out, nothing gay about it. All Minho’s hard work in the field of relaxation, however, was thrown out the window the moment he felt Thomas’s long fingers brush his skin, his shoulders arching dramatically as he forced himself not to shudder at the touch.

“Jesus Christ, Min. Calm down.” The younger boy whispered, leaning over to breathe the words directly into Minho’s ear - When did he get that close? The runner wracked his brain to think of some compelling response, hearing himself splutter out a few unintelligible sounds as he tried to think of some excuse but words were stolen from him as the boy ran the scrunchie from the tip of his spine all the way down to his lower back before dragging it back up again. 

“Jest relax.” Thomas soothed softly, mimicking Minho’s earlier circular scrubbing pattern as he fell into a monotonous rhythm and began working his way down the runner’s back. Minho tried to do as he was asked, really he did, but the feel of the boy’s hands running along his skin was making it rather difficult considering tingles ran down his spine every time the kid moved. 

“No homo.” Thomas tried, his voice light and reassuring; and tentatively, Minho nodded,  letting his shoulders fall from their tight position and forcing the tension to drain from his strained muscles.

“No homo.” The Korean replied with conviction, uttering the words instantly making him feel better as Thomas finally finished up and began rinsing out the scrunchy while Minho moved around him to turn off the water. The runner turned the knob into the off position and the shower head sputtered out a few more, pathetic spurts of steamy water before finally gurgling to a stop, leaving naught but a few lone droplets to leak from the contraption. Finishing his rinse job, Thomas reached around his friend to hang the drenched poof from the showerhead, leaning up on tiptoes as he did so. The boy huffed in annoyance, urging his body to stretch  an insy bit further as he found himself to be just a little bit too short to succeed at the task, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he pushed himself up.

“Need me to get it, Tomboy?” Minho teased with a knowing smirk, earning a pointed glare and a sharp elbow to the side as he wheezed out a laugh, loving nothing more than getting under his friend’s skin. 

“No way, shuckface! I can do it!” Thomas growled determinedly, shoving the Asian roughly out of the way as the boy simply held his hands up in a pacifying shrug, never letting his signature smirk slip from his face as he watched the smaller male struggle - That was, until Thomas slipped anyway.  

The brunette yelped as his balance faltered, tiptoed feet slipping on the slick shower floor and sending him flailing as he struggled in vain to catch himself. Hands grasped helplessly at thin air as he fell back, his legs flying out from under him as Minho’s smirk gave way to a look of surprise and panic and he tried to catch his companion, throwing himself forward and grabbing Thomas’s bicep in an attempt to haul him back upright. 

The momentum of the falling boy was too much however, and Minho felt his own feet slip uselessly on the ceramic floor of the tub as he was pulled down after him, barking out a stream of curses as they hit. The runner landed square on top of his friend, legs tangled with his as he tried to quickly push himself back upright, hands slipping on wet floor and slamming him back down hard on the younger boy’s chest as he tried to escape the knot of limbs. Thomas gasped as the breath was knocked out of him by the impact, groaning unhappily before realization of their current predicament seemed to dawn on him and he froze, every muscle in his body going rigid under his friend. Minho laid flesh attop him, still having not recovered from the secondary fall, his chest pressed against Thomas’s and his legs trapped the boy. His right thigh was braced on the outside of the teen’s hips as he tried to regain his grip but his left leg landed directly between the boys legs, dangerously close to his crotch. 

“Shuck. I’m sorry. I didn't mean to fall on you. Shuck, Thomas. Are you okay?” Words fell out of Minho’s mouth quicker than his friend could respond to them, concern for the boy he’d basically smashed and desperation to get out of their current situation battling for dominance in his mind.

“I’m fine, really. Just get your fatass off me.” Thomas replied breathlessly, air absent from his lungs because Minho had fallen on him obviously and not for any other reason whatsoever - Or so Minho told himself. The runner attempted to push himself up once more, gripping the slick edge of the tub with both hands and shifting forward to pull himself up. The only problem with this, however, was that, incidentally, shifting his weight caused Minho to push his left leg forward. A low whine was elicited from the pinned boy as he arched slightly at the unexpected contact, causing Minho to forget how to breathe as he froze in place, not daring to move a muscle for a long moment. The runner’s heart pounded in his chest, the sound of its quickened beats the only noise that met his ears as his breath stayed stuck in his throat and time seemed to slow down. 

“No homo!” Thomas squeaked in apology, face flushing bright red as Minho finally remembered how to move and scrambled up hastily, looking anywhere but at the sprawled, blushing boy still left laying in the tub. Boobs. Think of boobs. Don’t look at Thomas. Think. About. Boobs.

“No homo.” Minho assured the boy after a few long moments, only daring to speak when he was sure he had his thoughts under control and nothing stupid would pour out of his unobedient mouth. He extended a helping hand out to the boy, who still hadn’t moved from his fallen position, pushing away any awkwardity that threatened to make an appearance as Thomas gratefully took it and let Minho pull him up, seeming relieved that the Asian wasn’t upset with him. They’d said no homo, so it was fine...Right?


	4. Guard Dogs and Games

**** By the time the whole shower fiasco was over and the boys had gotten dressed, it was getting late and the sun was beginning to dip low in the burning sky, flame-licked orange just beginning to give way to cool purples as the light began to dim. Thomas was adjusting his flannel for the fiftieth time that hour as if the slightest change in the angle his collar hung at would alter the entire look of his outfit. He studied himself critically in the mirror with a slight pout before tossing up his hands in defeated exasperation.

“How does this look?” The brunette asked his friend once more, holding out his arms for examination despite the fact that Minho only took one, quick glance at him before responding. 

“No amount of fixing is gonna make you any less ugly.” The Korean teased with a smirk before subtly returning his attention to his own mirror, pretending not to be focused on perfecting the minute details of his own look as he carefully maneuvered the tips of his hair into an upward swoosh. Thomas merely groaned in agreement before flopping listlessly back onto the mattress, resigning himself to a lifetime of rejection and imperfect flannels with a huff of disappointment, missing the frown that suddenly came over his friend's face.   

“You look fine, shank. No homo.” Minho assured earnestly, just as he did everytime Thomas came complaining about his looks to him - And he meant it too, though he’d never admit it. He just didn’t get why the boy thought he wasn’t good looking. The way his deep, glowing amber eyes caught the sun, revealing hidden golden flakes, and played off of warm brown, untamed hair was mesmerizing. Not to mention the way the honey tones contrasted against pale, mole-speckled skin, all with soft cheeks and full, pink lips that puckered adorably when the boy pouted. The runner was, admittedly… Well, he wasn’t ugly, that was the point. He would totally get with Thomas. If Thomas were a girl, obviously. 

“Easy for you to say, Mr. sex-on-a-plate.” Thomas scoffed, looking only mildly irritated as he rolled over onto his stomach then scrambled into a sitting position. “Look at me, I’m Minho. I  have muscles and perfect hair.” The brunette mocked, holding his arms in a body builder position for a moment before combing a hand through his hair and shooting the older boy a “sex” look with half lidded eyes and parted lips. “No homo.” The boy barely managed to get out before Minho chucked a shoe at him and he lost his voice to giggles as he barely dodged the item before bursting out laughing at his own joke, holding his stomach as he rolled on the bed. 

“Get up, shuckface. We’re gonna be late.” Minho growled, but it sounded pathetically unthreatening when he failed to stifle his own laughter, Thomas’s giggles had always been contagious. The boy wheezed out one more laugh before the Asian warningly shook another shoe at him, an unspoken threat to chuck it if he didn’t get moving, and he finally pushed himself off the bed with an overdramatic grunt of effort. The Korean pushed open the front door and made his way down the steps, pausing to check the time and let Thomas catch up with him. His feet hit the sidewalk and he paused to enjoy the familiar, warm scent of a summer evening that flooded his nostrils. 

The bright digital numbers printed across a ridiculous selfie of him and Thomas read 7:52, letting him know they weren't running too far behind schedule, considering Gally’s house was about a fifteen minute walk away. Walking would be a must since neither of them were responsible enough to be a designated driver nor had enough cash to call a cab - And he had already seen plenty of Thomas nearly dying in a car crash for today, thank you. 

“Is that last Halloween?” Thomas quipped, appearing behind Minho and leaning over him to get a better look at his phone, a light smile tugging at his lips as he gazed at the lock screen. The photo featured an irritated looking Minho wearing a cheap wolf ear headband and Thomas wearing, not only a red cape,  but also a shit-eating grin as he slung an arm around his companion. 

“Yeah, when you made me wear the stupidest matching costumes to ever be spat outta hell.” Minho huffed sarcastically, putting the device away and beginning to walk in the direction of Gally’s home, Thomas keeping pace beside him. 

“I gave you all my Reese Cups in return! It was a fair deal!” Thomas protested indignantly, apparently insulted by such mockery of his amazing costume selection. “Besides, you liked it.” He asserted smugly, earning naught but an incredulous scoff from his friend. “You may look annoyed but, trust me, I can tell.” He concluded cheerily, shoving his hands into his pockets as the cool evening air began to settle over the town. 

“How do you know? I’m literally rolling my eyes in every picture we took that night.” Minho defended, but he knew the boy was right, it had been nice to just do something cheesy and stupid with his friend. They had even won the prize for “Best Couples Costume” and he still didn’t know which was better, the actual prize, which had been a motherload of candy, or pissing off Newt and Alby, who had been trying really hard to win. Either way, the spoils had been worth not correcting the judges and, honestly, the whole night had been fun. Though, hell would freeze over before he admitted that to Thomas or anyone else for that matter.

“I’m your best friend. It’s my job to know these things.” Thomas stated confidently with a curt nod of finality before breaking into one of his stupid I-have-an-idea grins, sending a wave of foreboding over his companion. “Let’s go as a devil and angel next year! You’ll be the devil, obviously.” The teen chirped, before pausing to gesture at a familiar street sign that let them know they were approaching their destination. 

“‘Cause you’re such an angel!” Minho snickered, nearly choking on his own spit at the ludicrousness of the claim. 

“I am! I’m sweet, and adorable, and innocent!” Thomas informed the older boy eagerly, counting the traits off on his fingers as he spoke. Minho opened his mouth to retaliate, ready to tell the boy that at least one of those things wasn't true, but his unspoken words were drowned out by a sudden blare of music, the heavy beat of a bass drum seeming to vibrate him to the core as the sound thundered out of a familiar house at the end of the lane.

“Guess we found the party!” Thomas yelled to be heard over the music but was still practically inaudible, leaving Minho to read his lips as he grimaced and covered his ears. The Asian merely nodded, unwilling to battle with the music to be heard as they moved further down the street, their pace slowing as they took in the flashing lights glinting out of the windows and flooding the dark lawn with their neon beams.

“Did Gally get a new car?” Thomas spoke again as they finally came to a halt in front of the madhouse, gesturing to where a shiny sedan sat in the driveway, the white gleam of a strobe light glinting off its untainted black paint in a pattern of sickeningly quick beats. Something stirred in the back of Minho’s mind, like his brain was trying to put together a puzzle he didn't have all the pieces to yet. He couldn’t remember seeing the boy in question with such a vehicle before but it could easily belong to one of his guests or maybe the teen’s dad could’ve gotten it for him. Either way, the Asian couldn’t explain why it stuck out to him so much so he decided to shake the odd feeling off with a shrug. 

The front door of the house abruptly swung open, the blast of the unmuffled music quite near deafening as Minho resisted the urge to stumble back at the sheer force of it. With it came the smell of booze, cheap perfume, and an overlying odor of sweat; the classic party scent the Korean had become so accustomed to over the years - The familiarity of it was almost welcoming in a way. 

A boy with short cropped black hair stumbled out to greet them, dangerously sloshing the golden liquid filling a red solo cup he was holding as he swayed with the beat of whatever song was playing, cackling drunkenly as he gestured them forward.

“Gally!” Thomas greeted with an obviously forced smile, mouthing a silent “why are we here?” to Minho as their host smacked him a little too roughly on the back, sending him stumbling and earning another round of scratchy snickers. It wasn’t that Gally was a bad guy, he just didn’t know where to draw the line and had crossed Thomas’s one too many times. 

“I can’t believe you two honeymooners crawled outta your sex-den long enough to come!” Gally joked easily as he guided the two inside, shoving them through the doorway and into the crowd before they even had a chance to think of a comeback. 

Minho groaned at his friend’s crappy joke as people brushed past him, jostling him roughly about and separating him from Thomas almost instantly as he lost the boy in the crowd. Personal space didn’t seem to be a thing anymore as far too many people were crowded into one area, pushing past him with no real destination. He struggled to maneuver through the throngs of teens in search of anyone he knew, becoming more uncomfortable by the second. He was already regretting coming and he hadn’t been there longer than five minutes.

“Aw, where’s your other half?” A annoyingly familiar voice, thick with a British accent cooed from nearby, drawing Minho’s attention to a slightly less crowded corner of the room where ping pong tables had been set up and Newt leaned against one, smirking cockily. For once, Minho was actually relieved to see the blond, pushing past the crowd and finally coming to stand in an area where he wasn’t constantly breathing directly into someone's armpit, literally sagging with relief as he was able to spread his arms out once more. 

“Probably trampled.” Minho finally replied once he’d gotten close enough to the Brit to actually be heard, gesturing back exasperatedly at the crowd he’d barely managed to break free of. 

“Aw. That’s too bad, he was a good chap. Annoying little shithead, God rest his soul.” Newt tsked, feigning a look of pity before pausing to fake wipe a tear from his eye. “Well, you can play beer pong with Alby and I to help drown your sorrow.” He immediately dropped the sad act and pointed to where the dark skinned boy was standing before one of the ping pong tables, lining up a shot. 

Alby closed one eye, focusing on the red cups sorted into a perfect triangle along the playing board before strategically bouncing the little plastic ball he had clutched in one fist. The shot bounced once as it should then soared toward the nearest cup, looking like a winner; but instead barely nicked the edge of the red plastic then bounced away from its target.

“Shuck!” Alby huffed as Minho booed him jovially, sauntering up to grab one of the tiny balls and show these losers how it was really done. Little did they know they were challenging the unquestioned, undefeated King of Beer Pong.

Minutes passed, then hours as the night dragged on. A small crowd slowly gathered around to watch the challengers fail time and time again against Minho but never too many at a time as kids caught interest, came, got bored, and went. The game was mostly ignored by the teenagers who were far more concerned with mingling than with some Asian kid kicking ass at a party game. 

“Minho!” Thomas’s voice suddenly sounded in the boy’s ear, breaking his focus and causing him to botch the shot that would've won the latest game. He cursed as the ball bounced sporadically around the bored before pathetically rolling off, causing a tipsy Alby to snort like a pig as Newt collapsed into him in a fit of giggles. 

“I’m gonna strangle you, Tom.” Minho huffed in annoyance, crossing his arms irritably as he turned around to face the boy that’d cost him the win. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you are. Or at least you’re gonna want to after I ask you this.” Thomas admitted, running a hand exasperatedly through his tangled hair and averting his eyes every time his friend tried to meet his gaze.

“Why? What’s the matter?” Minho questioned urgently, dropping his irritation immediately as concern came to take its place. He placed a hand on the younger boy’s arm, leaning in as he tried to get the kid to meet his eyes. 

Thomas squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, obviously struggling, before finally sucking in a deep breath and reopening his hazel orbs, meeting Minho’s gaze with an imploring stare. “I need you to smack my ass.” 

“What?” Minho spluttered incredulously, convincing himself he had misheard the boy or something like that. Sure, Thomas looked slightly tipsy, but not drunk enough to go asking for something like that and especially not from Minho, a guy. 

“Look… I know.” Thomas began, groaning once more and pressing his hands against his eyes as he forced himself to continue. “Brenda's here and I swear she’s been eye raping me for the past three hours. Three hours, Minho. I can’t stand it. Please.” The kid cried, removing his hands from his face to pull at Minho’s shirt instead, desperation evident in his honey eyes as they stared pleadingly at the older boy. 

“And me smacking your ass is gonna help how?” Minho questioned, he knew, god he  _ knew _ , he should just say no and be done with it but Thomas looked so desperate, hands pulling at his sleeve, honey eyes wide and begging. How could he?

“Do it when she’s watching! If she thinks I’m taken, maybe she’ll back off!” Thomas explained hopefully, leaning forward as he spoke and bouncing on the balls of his feet, apparently excited that Minho hadn’t bucked his ingenious plan. 

_ “Why can’t you ask someone else?”  _ Is what Minho opened his mouth to say but a sudden burst of anger lit inside him, burning like fire through his veins, and what came out instead was, “Okay.” He wasn’t sure why the thought of someone else smacking his best friend’s ass pissed him off so much but he felt his fist clench at the mere thought of it, so he knew he didn't really have much of a choice. 

“Thanks, Min. You’re the best friend a guy could ask for! No homo!” Thomas practically purred, rocking back and forth on his heels momentarily before he began pulling the Asian away by the shirt collar, ignoring the slurred protests from Newt and Alby about quitting mid-game.

“No homo.” Minho replied blankly, the words threatening to stick like peanut butter in the back of his throat as he swallowed heavily and let himself be tugged along, forcing himself to take comfort in the words.

“Okay, I’m gonna go talk to her for a few minutes so we know she’s watching, then you’re gonna swoop in and save me.” Thomas explained in a hushed whisper, pulling Minho down by the grip he still held on his shirt until he could whisper into the boy’s ear. 

Before the Korean had time to respond or even fully analyze the plan, Thomas spurred into action, leaving Minho to stand bewildered in the crowd as his friend strolled off with feigned casualty. The Asian’s eyes trailed the runner as he moved toward where Brenda could be seen, leaning against a far wall and sipping a drink, her eyes locked on Thomas over the cusp of the red solo cup. 

His gaze momentarily flicked below his friends belt, surveying the way his jeans curved and the way his hips swayed when he walked, before he forced his eyes higher once more. Minho moved stealthily through the crowd, not getting too close to his goal yet but nearing the two to better survey the scene and plan his attack. He slipped in behind a group of boys too immersed in some innate conversation about football to notice his presence and did his best to hear the pair’s conversation over the constant clamor of music and whooping teens. 

“You here all by yourself, pretty boy?” The words dripped from Brenda’s lips, barely audible from Minho’s concealed position. The Korean practically growled at the nickname, his hands clenching into tight fists before he forced himself to relax and remain still. He was unable to catch Thomas's response, the football boys breaking into a short, but obnoxiously loud burst of laughter and drowning the teen’s quiet voice out. 

“Weird to see you without your guard dog.” Brenda mused then chuckled softly at her own joke.

“Whaddya mean?” Minho was able to hear Thomas’s voice this time, sensing the same confusion in it that he himself felt at the girl’s odd statement. 

“You’ve always got that, what’s his name? Min? Lin? Whatever, one of those Chink na-.”

“Minho?” Thomas cut the girl off, the unexpected anger in his voice taking the hiding boy by surprise, considering his friend was usually pretty mild.

“Yeah. Him. You’ve always got that guy over your shoulder looking like he’ll mug anybody that dares try and talk to you.” Brenda huffed, sounding like this fact had been bothering her for some time. “But he’s not here now, so I guess I can finally talk to you.” Brenda tried to joke, pushing herself off the wall as if to move forward but even from his hiding place Minho was able to see Thomas take a step back, looking offended.

“He’s my best friend.” Thomas growled unhappily but only received a look of confusion from Brenda as if she wasn’t getting his point. “I like having him around!” Thomas finally spat, seemingly displeased that the girl wasn’t getting that; but she merely sighed and moved forward again.

“Let me show you how much fun it can be without your bodyguard getting in the way.” Brenda breathed out in a sultry whisper, reaching out and grabbing Thomas by the shoulders of his flannel but Minho was already standing, using his building anger to push away any awkwardity as he moved forward to do what he needed to.

“A good guard dog never lets their favorite chew toy too far out of their sight.” He interjected, using Brenda’s earlier reference, the words rolling off his lips far easier than they probably should as he strolled toward where the pair had froze the moment he spoke. 

Thomas failed miserably to hide his relieved smile and Brenda stared at him in an odd mix of confusion and anger as he moved with purposeful slowness toward them. “And he never lets anyone else play with it.” The teen spoke only to Brenda this time, his voice becoming cold as it dropped to a low, dangerous growl and his dark eyes flashed at he stared squarely into the girl’s own orbs until she released the grip she had on his friend’s shirt and Thomas scrambled back to safer ground. 

“C’mon babe,” Minho sniffed indignantly as Thomas scootched back towards him, visibly relaxing the closer he got to the safety of Minho’s side. Determined to make the act convincing, the Korean slunk an arm around the smaller boy, resting his hand on his lower back and tugging him closer until he was flesh up against him, the warmth and weight of Thomas’s body pressed against his own feeling oddly...Right. It was as though they were built to fit together, the smaller boy tucking perfectly under Minho’s shoulder as his arm circled around his waist, resting on his hips as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

The runner pushed the thought away and turned them around, pausing momentarily to sneer victoriously back at Brenda as Thomas leaned into him, straightening up slightly to bring his lips closer to his companions ear, his hot breath gently ghosted across the hair on the back of Minho’s neck as he did so. “No homo.” Thomas whispered softly enough so only Minho could hear the breathy words, silently giving him permission to proceed with the grand finale. 

“No homo.” Minho agreed, his voice nothing more than a barely audible whisper as he reluctantly pulled back the hand he’d kept on the small of the teen’s back, only letting himself pause to think about how wrong this was for a brief moment before forcibly reminding himself that this was all in the sake of friendship. The Asian sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes as he finally brought the hand forward in a huge sweeping motion, satisfaction coursing through him as he heard Brenda suck in an appalled gasp from somewhere behind him before it even hit. Then, before he had a chance to reconsider, he felt his hand collide with the soft expanse of Thomas’s squishy, marvelous ass. 

The younger teen let out a startled squeak as the Korean boy’s hand smacked loudly against his butt, blushing furiously despite having expected it and biting his lip to muffle another, lower, sound Minho refused to let himself think about. He also did not let himself think about the softness of the boy’s butt, or how it jiggled slightly through course jeans. Boobs. He liked boobs. He did not like his best friend's ass, no matter how round and bubbly it may be or how good it felt against his hand as he kept it resting there until they got out of Brenda’s sight. He liked boobs. He did not want to squeeze the boy’s thick cheeks to see what sounds he could force from those pink lips. He liked boobs. 

Minho didn’t untangle himself from Thomas until they’d reached the other side of the room, using his arm still securely wrapped around the boy to keep from getting separated from him in the crowd again. It wasn’t until they finally broke free from the throng once more and Newt started cooing and jeering at them like the drunken idiot he was that the teen finally retracted his arm, breaking away from the smaller boy and trying to act like nothing had happened while all the while the last few minutes played over in his mind like a broken record.


	5. Show Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Baseketball - A movie, featuring a game in which players are allowed to psyche the opposing team out in an attempt to get them to botch their shot.

“Oi, Min! Brought your boyfriend back to get his ass beat too?” Newt slurred jovially, crooked smirk plastered across his face as he slung an arm loosely around Alby who grinned evilly.

“Or is that your job?” The dark skinned boy questioned, chuckling slightly as he spoke, before collapsing into a fit of snorts and wheezes, stumbling as he leaned into Newt who was doing no better at containing his own laughter.

“Oh, you are on!” Thomas declared, moving away from Minho and stomping defiantly to the beer pong table, determination written all over his face as he scowled irritably at his drunken friends. Minho reluctantly followed, groaning slightly to himself as he went. Normally, he would’ve been excited to have a teammate but there was one, itsy-bitsy, teeny-tiny problem… Thomas absolutely sucked at beer pong. 

Minho watched in utter dismay as Thomas grabbed a ball and attempted to line up a shot, bending over slightly and slowly swaying his hips from side to side, trying to find the perfect angle as he squinted his eyes scrutinizingly at the plastic cups lined up before him - It was entirely incorrect and  _ not  _ at all sexy. 

Minho was positively appalled as his friend flicked his wrist and sent the small, plastic sphere flying into the air where it flew depressingly far away from its goal, failing to even land on the table as it plummeted uselessly to the floor below.

“Wow! That was really close, Thomas!” Alby jeered with a shit-eating grin, pretending not to see Thomas flip him the middle finger as Minho stepped up to take his turn, hoping against hope that his skills alone could pull them to victory. The runner grabbed his ball and moved to line up his shot, closing one eye and positioning himself just so before tossing the thing gently, moving the motion through his whole body to make it smooth and precise. The plastic toy bounced once before dropping satisfyingly into the bright red cup he’d been aiming for, despite the swipe Alby took at it as Newt spat heated curses in the background.

“Bloody hell!” The blond muttered under his breath before snatching the claimed cup and bringing it to his lips, screwing his eyes shut and chugging the thing in one go before tossing it aside with a heavy huff of defeat. After a moment of consideration, Minho pointed out a cup in the back row to be the second victim from his bounce shot and Alby plucked it out of place with much less fuss then his boyfriend, drinking the contents slowly and actually taking a moment to breathe now and then. 

Then the dark-skinned boy shot, carefully aiming for one of the closer cups and managing to sink the left one of the second row, causing Newt to whoop in pure elation as he thumped Alby roughly on the back, going on about his superior teammate. Thomas huffed and moved forward to take the punishment, scowling  unhappily at the loss, but Minho sprung up and grabbed him by the wrist as soon as his pale fingers wrapped around the plastic.

“I’ll take first cup.” Minho offered quickly, earning a confused look from the other boy as he released his grip on the drink, cocking his head like a bewildered puppy but earning not but a shrug in reply. The truth was, Minho had known Thomas for as long as he could remember and it hadn’t taken him long to figure out the kid was a shucking lightweight - The teen couldn’t hold liquor to save his life. Even though Minho had been playing earlier, he still had much farther to go before his skills would even begin to be affected and if they had any chance of winning this, he had to keep Thomas sober as long as possible. 

“Step back, the queen is present.” Newt announced, lining up to take his turn as Minho swallowed back the lukewarm beer, the taste of it bland after already having drank a few and the feel of it sticky in his throat. The Brit radiated confidence as he leaned against the table and tried to bounce his ball into the peak of Thomas and Minho’s pyramid but he slipped at the last second and the plastic sphere bounced away across the wooden floor before quickly becoming lost forever under the chaotic jungle of feet. 

“The queen, you said?” Minho snorted, earning him a pointed glare from the disgruntled blond as Thomas snickered and bawled his hand into a fist, holding it up for Minho to lightly bump his knuckles against before he continued on to the table. Minho didn’t even bother watching this time, not a doubt in his mind that he already knew the outcome of the shot. 

The sound of plastic hitting wooden flooring and rolling away soon met his ears, followed by the familiar string of curses signature to Thomas alone, confirming his suspicions as he sighed resolutely before pulling himself over to the table. He thumped a now rather flustered Thomas on the back reassuringly, mumbling a quiet “I got it,”  in assurance before plucking another ball from the pile and moving to prepare the shot. His dark eyes fixed intently on a cup in the center of the third row and he moved his wrist forward experimentally a few times, getting a feel for the movement before finally pulling back to actually release the ball. 

“Hey, what’s Tommy’s ass feel like?” Newt suddenly popped up directly beside the Asian,  appearing out of thin air and poking his head into his line of sight, scruffy blond hair flinging wildly about as he whispered the question. Minho jerked back, his grip on the small ball all but forgotten as he recoiled from his friend, the item falling pathetically to the ground as he spluttered helplessly for a response.

“Damn! I was just kidding! A response like that? Could it be that you actually know?” Newt teased, giggling uncontrollably as he scrambled back into Alby to avoid the swing Minho took at him, .

“That’s cheating!” Thomas yelped angrily, looking absolutely horrified, his mole speckled cheeks aflame and his honey eyes blown so wide Minho was legitimately concerned they might actually pop out of his head. 

“Baseketball rules!” Alby countered with a smirk, shoving Newt behind him as protection from a fuming Minho still intent on choking the blond. 

It went on like this for some time. Newt made a few shots after he’d given up his royal title and actually spent some time lining up his throws. Alby made the majority of the shots he took, though he only ever attempted sinking keeping them tied as Minho made virtually every shot he took, save the ones Newt was able to fluster him into missing. The Asian practically always bounced his balls in, quickly progressing them toward the end of the game and it looked like victory could be a possibility, even with his inept teammate, but it was going to be close. Especially considering the fact that Thomas had failed to get a single ball in a cup the whole game and was only becoming increasingly tipsy as time passed. 

“I want to puke, Minho.” Thomas informed his friend sullenly as the older boy guided him to the table, arm wrapped around his lower back and the other gripping his shoulder to provide some sort of stability as he placed a ball into his hand, folding the brunette’s fingers around the item and squeezing his hand until he was sure he would hold onto it. 

“I know, Thomas, I know. But if you can get this one ball to go into that cup over there,” Minho began, pausing to point out the item in question - It was the only cup on the board but he still wasn’t sure Thomas was going to see it without help considering his current state. “Then we win.” 

“I wanna win.” Thomas informed him, looking determinedly at the cup, squinting his eyes slightly as if he was having trouble figuring out its exact location. 

“I know, Tommy.” The Korean boy soothed, trying to keep his jitters to a minimum. Victory was so close, he could almost taste it (it tasted like cheap booze that sat out a little too long) but with this final shot relying on Thomas, things were far from promising. The dark haired teen moved back, trying to let the other male compose his final shot, their last chance hanging on by a paper thin thread but suddenly he was caught by the wrist

“Help me.” Thomas pleaded desperately, looking expectantly at the Asian but receiving only a confused look in reply, his finger still wrapped around the other boy's wrist to prevent any attempted retreat. “Show me how.” The brunette tried again after a moment of consideration, looking unsure how to phrase a simple sentence at this moment, let alone convey his request in a way Minho would understand. Luckily, over the years the Korean had become quite skilled in the art of understanding drunk Thomas, slurred speech and all, so he didn’t have trouble figuring out what the teen wanted.

“It's all in the line up.” Minho explained in a hushed whisper, leaning in so his lips almost brushed the boy’s ear, unwilling to reveal his masterful technique to his enemies. He leaned forward and bent over slightly so his back sloped at a smooth angle, gesturing for Thomas to do the same as he demonstrated. “Make sure the cup’s not only in the center of your vision, but in the middle of your actual shot. Your body should make a line toward your goal.” The teen explained enthusiastically, his voice full of conviction as he tried to put his art into words, but when he glanced over at his student he saw that his lesson had been horribly butchered. Thomas was bent over at what resembled a crooked ninety degree angle and his shoulders arched in contrast to the line of motion he was attempting to create. The position looked as painful as it did ridiculous. 

“You look as stiff and crooked as on old man’s boner.” Minho informed the affronted teen with an amused snort, chuckling as his friend choked on his spit before feigning indignation with a snotty “hmph,” turning his nose up at the rude comment before finally breaking and snickering slightly at the image. He attempted the position again, this time getting the slope part correct, but taking it farther than need be until his head was practically under the ping pong table. 

“Oh my god. You are dysfunctional.” Minho huffed as Thomas attempted to return to a standing position, succeeding only in smacking his head painfully off the bottom of the playing board. The hazel liquid in the remaining cup sloshed dangerously as the brunette released a string of obscenities and brought his hands up to his head, recoiling sharply as he stumbled away from the table and finally managed to stand up straight once more.

“Shuck!” The teen growled, biting his bottom lip and wincing slightly as Minho moved in the check for blood, flinching as the Asian ghosted his hand over his hair.

“You good, bro?” Minho inquired, concern evident in his voice despite his greatest attempts to appear unaffected. He was relieved to find his hand free of any crimson stains when he pulled it back and inspected it but he hadn't missed the way the boy shrunk back when he’d touched the wound and he wasn't about to take the chance of Thomas being seriously hurt.

“I'm fine.” Thomas muttered rubbing his head experimentally before accepting his own assurance and moving to try the position again.

“Let me help before you kill yourself, stupid shank.” Minho commanded, unwilling to risk an intoxicated Thomas doing something dumb again and actually hurting himself as he moved forward to halt the kid's most recent attempt by putting an arm out over his chest. 

Thomas didn't protest, blinking in confusion but looking somewhat relieved at the same time as Minho rotated so he stood behind the boy, facing them both toward the table. The Asian boy pressed against his friend, wrapping one arm around his hips to help position him as he used his weight to push them down into a subtle, smooth slope. The dark haired male leaned forward into the teen, pushing their bodies forward slightly and creating a curve toward the cup as he reached his other arm up to wrap around the one Thomas still held the ball in. Gripping the smaller boy’s wrist, Minho swayed back, pulling his friend with him, before rocking forward, pushing into the boy and moving him forward as he did the same with the arm he held captive in his grip.

“Everything has to flow toward the goal.” Minho explained, breathing the words directly into Thomas’s ear as though he were telling him the world's best kept secret while he repeated the swaying motion a few more times. 

Determination hardened Thomas’s gaze as his eyes fixed on the red solo cup and he pushed back into Minho as he built up his throw, back pressing into the taller boy's chest as he curved to fit into his body. The Korean pushed them forward, every fiber of his being willing the shot to flow as Thomas finally released the small, plastic sphere from his grip, sending it flying in a smooth curve toward the cup, following the line of motion they’d created. 

The white ball hung in the air, time seeming to slow down as the two teens watched with bated breath, every muscle going rigid as hope lit inside them. Thomas grabbed for Minho out of pure excitement, the older male immediately clutching his hand without thinking, too caught up in the thrill of the game to care.

The ball hung still in the air, as if suspended there by an invisible spiderweb’s threads, for a long moment before finally beginning it's descent, plummeting toward the cup with lightning speed. It neared its final destination, clipping the inner edge of the plastic rim and bouncing skyward once more. 

Minho gripped Thomas’s hand until his knuckles were white, his dark eyes wide and terrified as they fixed on the airborne item. The brunette sucked in an anxious breath, turning his head into his companions chest momentarily before immediately peaking back out, unable to break his gaze from the ball as he grasped feverishly at the cloth of his friend’s shirt. Finally, the white plastic sphere dropped from its invisible strings and fell directly into the center of the final cup with a satisfying splash. 

Thomas squealed, the high pitched sound as amazed as it was joyous, as he threw his arms up in victory and practically giggled in excitement. The boy stood still for only a moment, just long enough to hold up an open palmed hand for his friend to smack, grinning like he’d won the lottery as Minho swung his hand into his with a victorious whoop of his own. Elation surged through the Korean’s veins and laughter bubbled up from his chest as he slung an arm around the smaller boy, the force of the action sending the intoxicated teen stumbling into him as he quickly joined in his laughter, leaning against the older boy for support. 

“And I thought we were gay.” Alby whispered, from the side lines, drawing Minho's attention to where their defeated opponents stood looking on in stunned silence. He felt his lips tug his grin into a gloating smirk as he turned to face them, ready to rub every ounce of their unexpected victory in their faces but quickly pulled up short. Newt was smirking just as hard as he was, if not more so, and his boyfriend was merely shaking his head slightly and chuckling in disbelief.


	6. Drunken Confessions

“Oi, Alby, I think I've suddenly forgotten how to throw. Care to show me?” The blond boy teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at the dark skinned boy who grinned evilly before immediately wrapping his arms around his lover’s hips and grinding mockingly against him.

“You're panties are just in a twist ‘cause we kicked your ass!” Minho snorted sarcastically, stumbling slightly as he tried to keep his balance, the fact that Thomas was leaning heavily against his side and hiccuping every now and again through fits of giggles making it rather difficult.

“Oh really? You wanna go for round two?” Alby challenged gruffly, not about to let his pride be injured as Newt nodded enthusiastically, just as eager to erase their standing defeat.

“You’re on!” Thomas slurred defensively, Minho having to keep a firm grip on the boy’s shoulders to keep him upright as he pointed a challenging finger at the other two teens, leaning precariously as the action knocked him off balance. 

“No. Nooo.” Minho refused, a strong note of finality to his words and an unrelenting hardness to his gaze even as Thomas turned to stare pleadingly at him, puppy dog hazel eyes ineffective against the surety of his decision. “I’m dragging your drunk ass out of here before you do something stupid.” He insisted, earning a defiant pout as Newt and Alby grumbled in the background, mumbling something about him being too chicken, but he couldn’t relent. 

Thomas’s face was already flushed from intoxication and it wouldn’t be long before he started barfing everywhere. Minho was personally not in the mood to have Thomas throw up all over him nor did he particularly feel like rescuing the kid from whatever trouble he would undoubtedly get himself into if they stayed here. It was more or less his job, as “best friend,” to watch out for the idiot and take him home when he drank too much. That’s just what good, platonic, bros do. 

“I’m not…,” Thomas began to protest but then seemed to lose his words for a minute, hiccuping heavily, before pulling himself back together. “That drunk!” The teen finally finished, though his difficulty getting out even that simple sentence assured Minho of its falsehood. The brunette pulled away from the older boy, attempting to stand up straight on his own to prove the truth of his claim but immediately tripped over some invisible barrier, sending him stumbling forward once more. Ever reliable Minho was prepared for this however though and his arms were already open to catch the faltering boy who slammed heavily into his chest, clinging to the cloth of his shirt for support as he fought to get his legs to cooperate. 

“Yeah. You’re the the epitome of sobriety.” Minho agreed sarcastically before moving to wrap one arm around the younger male’s back to keep him standing, grabbing Thomas’s arm and slinging it over his shoulder so that he held most of the boy’s weight. 

“Don’t have too much fun!” Newt jeered with a dismissive wave as Minho began pulling Thomas away from the ping pong table and started the slow trek toward the front door, ignoring the weak, slurred protests the smaller boy mumbled into his shirt. Opting not to acknowledge the Brit, the Korean boy tightened his grip on his friend and squared his shoulders, dragging them into the tightly packed crowd in an attempted b-line to the exit. 

The runner squeezed the smaller boy against his side as bodies pressed in on them, growling out forced “excuses me’s” and the occasional “get the hell out of the way” as he pressed ever onwards, keeping his steely grip on Thomas’s arm and waist no matter how many idiots ran into them and almost forced them apart. The younger boy stumbled dangerously, alcohol impacting his ability to get solid footing and beginning to weigh on his energy levels, only making his coordination poorer as his eyelids drooped and his legs faltered uselessly underneath him. 

“Just a little farther, Thomas.” Minho assured, practically yelling even as he brought his lips directly to the boy’s ear, desperate to be heard over the deafening music and the din of the partying crowd. He was half-dragging, half-carrying his companion by the time they finally broke free of the throng of drunk teens and the cherished front door was finally in sight, it’s white painted wood and smudged glass window looking like heaven itself as he pulled the smaller boy towards it. However, just as the Asian reached for the glorious brass knob to freedom, an unexpected snarky snicker halted his retreat and brought his attention to where a teen with a chopped buzzcut stood smirking at them, arms crossed cockily over his wide chest. 

“Leaving so soon?” Gally chuckled, yelling slightly to be heard over the blaring basey beat of whatever song ripped through the speakers, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Well, you know Mr. lightweight.” Minho explained quickly, irritation biting its way into his words as he forced himself to refrain from scowling at their host. He just wanted to get Thomas out of this party and back home safe before he passed out and Gally was only getting in the way. 

“I guess it’s just as well.” Gally said with a casual shrug and Minho nodded curtly before immediately turning to leave again, wanting the conversation to be over so he could get Thomas home already, but the teen began speaking again and it took everything in Minho’s willpower not to scream. “I honestly didn’t expect you guys to come.” Gally continued, his smirk widing into an evil, cheshire cat grin as the Asian boy looked at him in confusion, unease beginning to tingle in his veins as he had no explanation to why the other male looked so amused. 

“Whaddya mean?” Minho finally asked, suspicion evident in his voice as he took the bait and turned sharply to face Gally, leaving Thomas to stumble back and lean against the door, apparently unwilling to involve himself in all the motion his support system had suddenly decided to participate in. 

“Well, I just mean..” Gally began, his eyes glinting with malicious humor as he drew his answer out, perfectly aware Minho was only getting more irritated by the second as the boy huffed and waved his hand in a “get on with it” gesture. “After your scare this morning…” The host finally admitted in a singsong voice, feigning a look of concern as he received only a blank stare from his friend. 

“How did you..?” Minho began tentatively, processing everything slowly but letting the question trail off unfinished as the pieces started to come together in his head and things started to fall into place. Black sedan in the driveway. Gally’s driveway. Gally, who never did have a concept of what was too far. Thomas, standing like a deer in the headlights in the middle of the road, a car careening towards him. A black sedan careening towards him. Hazel eyes blown wide in terror, inches from death. Gally never knew what was too far. Fear exploding inside him as he tried to pull Thomas to safety, moments from losing him. Gally didn’t know what too far was. Too far. This was way shucking too far. 

“Hey, come on now. I knew he was safe!” Gally’s words brought Minho back to the present moment, rage boiling in his blood and his hands gripping into tight-white knuckled fists as he stared disbelievingly at his friend. Something in his face must have betrayed the burning anger he felt pooling in his stomach because Gally took a shaky step back, holding his hands up in a pacifying gesture as Minho felt himself step forward on instinct, a low growl forcing its way through gritted teeth.

“I knew guard dog Min Min, would never let anything happen to his precious Tomboy.” Gally assured, his voice dripping with a sarcastic sweetness as he batted his eyelashes girlyly, because the poor idiot never did know when to stop joking - Never knew when it was too far.

“What if I hadn’t, Gally?” Minho spat in reply, advancing with slow, purposeful steps until he stood directly in front of the other male. Gally may have been taller than him, but right now the kid shrunk back and cowered under his heated stare, seeming smaller by the second.

“What if I was too slow? Then what?” The Asian growled, voice low and dangerous. His whole body was beginning to shake with anger, his knuckles were blisteringly white and every muscle inside him was taunt with building energy. He was absolutely fuming. 

In a detached sense, he knew he shouldn’t be this furious. Gally didn’t know any better and Thomas was fine, if not a little shaken. But the image of his closest friend, the person he cared about more than anyone else, reaching desperately for him, mere milliseconds away from being nothing more than a mangled mess on the asphalt was burned into the back of his brain. It was all he could see, filling him with a hot white, blinding rage that rang in his ears and set his entire body on fire. 

“Then...” Gally started, then trailed off, seeming to consider for a moment if he should really utter whatever he intended to. “Then I’d bring the booze to his funeral.” 

God, that kid really never knew when to stop. 

Minho didn’t know he was going to do it until he’d already grabbed Gally by the collar of his shirt, preventing any attempt at escape, but his arm drew back as far as it would go seemingly of its own accord and he wasn’t about to stop it - The boy had gone too far this time. He thrust his hand forward, throwing every ounce of anger into it, every molecule of fear he felt that morning on the street, every bit of horror he’d felt as he was sure he was going to lose the most important person in his life. 

An enraged scream tore itself from his throat as he slammed his fist into the ugly boy’s nose, feeling it crunch under the force of his blow as Gally fell back, stumbling out of the grip Minho had on him and dropping to the ground. The runner’s chest heaved with gulping, angry breaths, the only sound that filled his head as the crowd fell quiet and all eyes turned to stare at the scene. Excited mumbles bubbled up from the onlookers as they pressed in toward where Minho stood towering over Gally, who had failed to pick himself off the ground, cursing loudly as he reached a hand to his nose and wiped at the trail of blood beginning to leak from it. 

“I guess I kind of deserved that.” Gally finally huffed after a long, tense moment, crimson drops splattering down onto the boy’s white shirt as he gripped the tip of his nose and forced it back into place with a painful sounding crack, wincing as he did so. However, the apology fell on deaf ears as Minho turned on a heel and stomped back toward where Thomas still leaned against the front door, a dull buzz the only sound filling the teen’s head and the intense drive to get his friend out of this asshole’s house the only thing that guided him. 

“Whass matter, Min? You look mad.” Thomas slurred worriedly as Minho finally returned to him, apparently too far gone to have witnessed the events that just transpired. 

“Gally’s an asshole.” The Korean boy merely huffed in response, grabbing one of the brunette's arms and slinging it around his shoulder once more as he pulled him off the door and let him lean against his side, taking most of his weight.

“I coulda told ya that.” Thomas sniffed as Minho practically threw open the front door and guided him through it in the blink of an eye, slamming it shut behind them with a final crack before anything else could go wrong. 

The cool night air hit the runner, its harsh, biting chill a stark contrast from the tropical temperatures of the house. However, the cold, nipping wind was almost pleasant when compared with the humid conditions that close proximity and alcohol tended to create. Minho paused on the front steps, taking a short moment to breathe in the crisp, fresh air, enjoying the way the clean oxygen felt as it filled his lungs, free of the stench of sweat and booze. The brief reprieve was shattered all too soon however when Thomas suddenly tightened his grip on his shirt, groaning loudly as his hazel eyes screwed up in pain. 

“ ‘M gonna...” The teen barely managed to weakly stutter out, but Minho had known him long enough to recognize the telltale signs of impending regurgitation and already had him leaned over the stair railing in an instant. The older boy rubbed slow, soothing circles into his companions back as he wretched over the railing, whispering soft, comforting shushes to the kid as his entire body convulsed with the heavy heaves. 

“Minho.” Thomas whimpered out when his frame finally stopped shuddering, as if he didn't know what else to say and hoped the other boy could somehow make it better.

“I know, Tommy. We're gonna go home. It'll be okay.” Minho soothed as the boy stumbled back into him, letting out one last quiet groan as he slung his arms loosely around the older boy and leaned against him, looking infinitely more exhausted than he had a moment ago. 

The Asian began to lead his friend slowly down the concrete steps, going incredibly slow but still having to pause at the bottom to catch his balance as Thomas fell after him, practically face planting into Minho’s chest with a startled squeak. Minho restabilized the boy by wrapping an arm around his shoulder, letting the kid lean into him as they slowly began the long trek home, eager to get away from the deafening din of the pounding music but not going so fast that Thomas would be at risk of falling.

“You're the best, Minho.” Thomas informed the older boy cheerily, emphasizing the statement by rubbing his head against his friend’s side, much like a cat would bump its head against its owner when beginning for attention. 

“I know, Thomas. I'm awesome and you totally owe me for watching out for your dumbass.” Minho replied cooley, smirking down at his companion in amusement before finally stroking a hand over the boy’s hair when the nuzzling didn't stop, earning a pleased hum in response. 

“My ass is not dumb! I have a great ass!” Thomas protested defensively, looking offended and pouting like a stubborn child, his lower lip turned out and his honey eyes puppy dogged. It took everything in Minho's willpower not to agree as he diligently lead the stumbling teen along, finally passing the street sign Thomas had pointed out on their way in.

“Minho.” Thomas mumbled after a moment of quiet, but then failed to voice whatever statement he’d begun. “Miiin. Ho.” He rolled the name around his lips as he leaned into the Asian, clinging to his shirt for stability as he nearly tripped, arms tangling around the Korean’s waist in an attempt to remain standing.

“Mean hoe!” The brunette finally giggled out, grinning stupidly as he fell into a fit of snorts and wheezes at his own joke, seeming to think he’d uttered the funniest phrase to ever leave man's lips.

“I oughta leave you, Tomboy. See how well you get home without me.” Minho snorted, rolling his dark eyes in exasperation as Thomas merely wrapped himself around him tighter at thte threat.

“Nooo! Mean hoe, you wouldn't! You like me too much.” Thomas asserted in a panicky voice, as if the alcohol was making him doubt the truth of the claim. He paused, looking thoughtfully at the ground as they finally started to approach the street they sought, the surrounding houses beginning to look more familiar.

“You do like me, right, Min?” The brunette questioned shakily, crawling his clinging fingers further up Minho’s shirt as he stated at him hopefully, honey eyes wide and uncertain.

“Of course I do, Tom. Why would I put up with your clingy, drunk ass if I didn't?” Minho assured comfortingly, squeezing the younger boy’s shoulder in affirmation as relief washed over the kid’s face. 

“Good ‘cause I love you.” Thomas purred contentedly. “I love you so much, man.” He asserted as they came to stand in front of their own steps, practically hanging over his friend as his legs finally began to give out and it was only his arms wrapped tightly around the other boy’s middle that kept him standing. Minho's heart skipped a beat at the words and his breath hitched in his throat but he stubbornly ignored the feeling, opting instead to focus on keeping Thomas upright as his knees buckled under the weight of intoxication and exhaustion. His friend was simply an affectionate drunk, that's all there was too it. He didn't mean anything by the words. 


	7. You Just Had to Wear Skinny Jeans, Didn’t You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestive content warning.

Minho quickly caught Thomas around the middle, his arms encircling the boy’s waist to keep him from hitting the ground as his legs finally gave out from under him, unwilling to take the teen a step further. With a sigh of resignation, the Asian abandoned any thoughts of guiding his friend into the house and, with a grunt of effort, heaved the brunette off the ground and managed to sling him over his shoulder. Thomas groaned weekly at the sudden motion, but didn't protest, tangling his fingers instinctually into the cloth of the back of his friend's shirt and Minho started up the steps. 

Trying to take each step as gently as possible to avoid jostling the sick teen, the runner finally reached their front door and hurried inside, still not putting Thomas back on the ground until he’d made it to their shared bedroom. With uncharacteristic gentleness, Minho crouched down and lowered the boy slowly from his shoulder and onto the mattress, keeping movements smooth and careful as Thomas whimpered softly. 

“Go to sleep.” Minho commanded softly but firmly as Thomas struggled into a sitting position, looking disgruntled. He tried to move back, but the teen caught him by the shirt, wringing his long fingers into the dark cloth and pulling the boy back to him with a whine of protest. 

“I'll be there in a minute.” Minho assured, patting the hand that held him in place soothingly until Thomas finally released him once more, looking relieved but still not laying back down. Accepting that the boy wouldn't settle back until he'd come to bed, Minho turned away to give himself the illusion of privacy as he began to strip out of his day clothes, unwilling to sleep in the rough material or to search through their unpacked boxes to find pajamas this late at night. 

He tried to his best to ignore the feeling of his friend’s eyes upon him as he tugged his shirt over his head and began working on his loose fitting jeans, attempting to push away the feeling of self consciousness that bubbled up inside him as he shimmied out of the course garment and tossed it away. Thomas was drunk. That was the only reason he was staring. End of story. 

“Min, I can't,” Thomas began in a sleep slurred tone before pausing to let out a drawn out yawn then a small hiccup. “Can't sleep like thiss.” He finished, sounding frustrated as the Asian boy made his way back to the bed and tried to climb into the covers, only to be stopped by the kid’s words.

“We don't have any other choice.” Minho sighed, telling himself he didn't feel hurt despite the way his heart sat heavy in his chest and his stomach twisted in tight knots. Of course Thomas didn't want to sleep with him, they were just friends, why would he?

“What?” Thomas questioned, sounding confused as Minho turned to face him, scowling as he prepared to explain to the drunk boy how they couldn't afford two mattresses when the words died on his lips. Thomas was fiddling uselessly with the buttons on his flannel, looking frustrated and… Oh. He meant he couldn't sleep with clothes, not that he couldn't sleep with Minho. 

Ignoring feelings of relief, the Korean watched his friend fight with the small, plastic buttons of the loose shirt for a few more minutes, knowing he should just keep his mouth shut but also acutely aware he wouldn't be getting any sleep unless Thomas somehow removed the annoying garments. 

“Thomas, can't you just sleep with clothes for one night?” Minho pleaded weakly but his friend simply shook his head vigorously in denial and immediately went back to toying with the impossible buttons. Groaning in annoyance, the Asian resigned himself to what he knew needed to be done and pushed himself up on his elbows before lifting himself reluctantly out of the bed. 

“Let me help you, stupid shank.” The dark eyed boy huffed resolutely, plopping down in front of Thomas and batting his useless hands away from the buttons.

“What would I do without you, Minho?” Thomas questioned graciously, leaning back on his hands and smiling contentedly as if he saw nothing wrong with his best friend undoing his shirt.

“Probably get with Brenda, settle down, and have yourself a mess of brats.” Minho scoffed, attempting to use conversation to distract himself from his current situation, which happened to be sitting between Thomas’s legs unbuttoning his shirt. His friend merely made a gagging sound in reply as Minho’s skillful fingers worked the first button open and he tried his best not to stare at the boys exposed collarbones as he moved downward. 

Thomas was wearing a low cut black undershirt beneath the red flannel, but it did little to hide the contours of the boy’s body as it clung tightly to his frame, something Minho was trying desperately to ignore. The teen worked rapidly, fingers making quick work of the buttons Thomas had struggled with until the thin flannel shirt hung open, leaving the form fitting undershirt on full display, stretching tight against lean muscle and jutting hip bones. 

Minho grabbed the shoulders of the overshirt in either hand and leaned forward to help Thomas shrug it off, ignoring the fact that the action put him directly between the boy’s spread thighs as he aided his friend in tugging it off either arm. This is where the runner thought the job would end and quickly began to pull back from his awkward position, but his companion lifted his arms in the air, looking at the older boy expectantly and blinking in confusion when he made no immediate moves. Minho hesitated, unwilling to believe that his life had come to this; stripping his best friend on their shared bed at two in the morning. 

“No homo?” Thomas offered hopefully, squirming about uncomfortably as if the feeling of his clothes were bothering him even now and Minho knew he was fighting a losing battle. 

“No homo.” Minho replied begrudgingly, steeling himself as he finally curled his fingers under the hem of the smaller boy’s tight shirt, feeling Thomas shiver as his cold hands ghosted over warm skin. He pulled the garment up in one smooth motion, half tempted to close his eyes to avoid seeing the pale expanse of skin suddenly revealed to him but unable to force himself to do so. 

The teen was all pale skin and toned muscle, slender and smooth and rippling when he instinctively recoiled from Minho’s cold touch. Moles speckled the plains of Thomas’s chest here and there in tiny clusters that reminded Minho of constellations set against the dark night sky - Exactly 22 of them to be precise, not that he'd counted.

Tossing the sweat drenched shirt somewhere behind him, Minho dipped his hands lower, sucking in an anxious breath as his finger tips trailed down to the button of his friends tight fitting jeans. His fingers struggled with the cool metal clasp and the fact that Thomas had begun to squirm about under his grip did nothing to aid his cause. 

“You gotta sit still, shuckface!” Minho growled out, glaring angrily at the uncooperative button as Thomas made an attempt to still under his hands, yet twitched now and then whenever the Asian’s cold fingers would brush against his stomach.

“ ‘s Not my fault your hands are made of ice!” Thomas yelped unhappily, jumping as his friend’s frigid fingers ghosted across the waistband of his jeans. Minho let out one last, irritable huff at the younger boy’s twitching before suddenly pushing a hand against the brunette’s chest and forcing him onto his back, toppling the smaller teen with ease. 

Thomas barely had time to let out a startled squeak before Minho was on top of him, pushing the brunette’s hips down with his legs so that he was practically straddling him, looking down at his pinned companion with a victorious smirk.

“I said, stay sill.” The Asian asserted forcefully, then placed a chilly hand against the boy’s side as if to prove a point, grinning like a hyena when Thomas squealed and squirmed but was unable to buck his hips under the weight of Minho. 

“Mean hoe!” Thomas protested before bracing himself on his elbows and trying to push himself back up but his friend was able to keep him in place with a single hand on his chest. 

“What was that? Torture me with your cold hands because I'm a shuckfaced shank that doesn't know when he's beat?” Minho cooed teasingly, eliciting a shrill wail of protest from the smaller boy before he gripped both of Thomas’s sides with his icy hands and ran the cold digits over his stomach. 

The brunette squirmed and fought, whimpering and laughing all at once as he tried to throw the stronger boy from his position to no avail, his efforts only driving Minho to toy with him more. “I'm sorry! I'm sorry! No more!” Thomas begged feverishly between breathless giggles and startled shrieks, jerking violently under the older boy's hands as his chest heaved for air.

“Say I'm the most awesome, amazing, coolest human being to ever grace the face the earth and that you are but a lowly peasant, honored to be in my presence!” Minho demanded, cackling cruelly as Thomas’s honey eyes blew wide at the demand.

“No way!” Thomas spat back, looking completely appalled, disbelief written all over his face, but Minho dug his fingers into the boy’s sensitive stomach with an evil grin and he immediately relented.

“Minho is the most awesome, amazing umm…” He began but paused, only to have to have his captor increase his attacks, squirming his fingers quickly up and down the boy’s side until he continued.

“Ah! Okay! Okay! The um… coolest? Coolest human being to ever grace the face of the earth!” Thomas sputtered in a panic, earning a vicious grin from the narcissistic boy above him.

“And?” Minho insisted eagerly, leaning forward to better hear the apology of his defeated foe, sporting a shit eating smirk. 

“And?” Thomas inquired, looking as deep in concentration as someone giggling uncontrollably could. “And I suck?” He guessed on a limb, looking hopeful as Minho’s fingers finally began to slow and eventually stilled. 

“That wasn't it.” Minho asserted with a shake of his head, though he didn't resume his assault on his friend's body, apparently more concerned with addressing Thomas’s incorrect guess than tormenting the boy further. “You may be a lowly peasant when compared to me, but you don't suck.” He corrected pointedly, disgruntled that his companion would've guessed such a thing.

“I'm a lowly peasant that doesn't suck.” Thomas huffed out, flopping his head back onto the mattress and looking absolutely exhausted. His face was flushed bright red with effort and his hair was a disheveled mess, falling into his face and dripping sweat from the tips. His lips hung agape as he struggled to suck in huge, gulping breaths of air, his exposed chest heaving with the audible gasps and his eyes fluttering closed in exhaustion… 

And Minho was straddling him, about to strip off his pants, shuck. Do. Not. Get. A. Boner.

“Now please stay still this time, Tomboy.” Minho begged, not sure his heterosexuality could take much more of this as he returned his hands to their original task. As his fingers trailed over the boy's skin and began fiddling with the stubborn button once more Thomas managed not to buck but whimpered softly at the contact, doing absolutely nothing to help his companion focus. 

Finally, after fingering the contraption to no avail for at least 45 seconds, Minho finally managed to undo his friend’s pants with one last grunt of effort, sighing in relief when the task was finally accomplished. The Asian quickly gripped the bronze zipper holding the tight garment against Thomas and pulled it down, ignoring the way he heard the smaller boy’s breath hitch as his fingers accidentally brushed the cloth underneath. He swore he felt something twitch in response to his touch, but he stubbornly refused to go down that avenue of thought and brought his focus to the waistband of the garment.

“Raise your hips for me.” Minho told the other male and god, did that sound gay - But Thomas complied without comment, arching his back so his butt lifted off the bed and his companion was able to hook his fingers under the tight fitting material. The Korean tugged gently at the jeans, wiggling them to try and loosen them from the boy but the skin tight cloth tried to pull his boxers down after them every time. 

“You just had to wear skinny jeans, didn't you, Thomas?” Minho growled unhappily, finally forcing himself to grab the waist of the boy’s underwear with one hand to prevent them getting pulled along as he tugged the annoying article of clothing down with the other. 

Thomas wiggled under his grip in an attempt to help remove the tight pants, but all he succeeded in doing was knocking Minho’s hand ajar, causing the older boy to slip and - Yep.  He'd just accidentally grabbed Thomas's dick - The brunette let out a shaky, startled gasp that turned into a strangled moan as he bit his lip to keep himself quiet and there was no doubt Minho felt the boy’s cock twitch at his touch this time. Bodily reaction, he told himself over and over again. Just a bodily reaction.

Scrambling now, Minho managed to shimmy the cursed skinny jeans down over Thomas’s thighs and after that they slid off easily, leaving the boy blushing in nothing more than a pair of burgundy boxers that hugged his hips and revealed every curve.

“Shuck! Thomas, I'm sorry. No homo!” Minho rambled, squeezing his eyes shut tight to try and clear the last moment from his mind but his fingers still tingled with the sensation and he still felt the warmth of the boy under his grip even after he'd pulled away. However, he received no response and when he finally peaked open a tentative eye to find out why, he discovered Thomas had already curled onto his side and lay still in the grip of slumber that had been threatening to overtake him for so long. 

Minho watched the boy for a long moment, feeling his heartbeat slowly return to normal as he matched his breathing to the steady rise and fall of his companions chest.  A trail of drool was beginning to leak from the smaller boy’s lips as soft, breathy snores escaped him. 

Finally, soothed by the serenity of his friend, Minho climbed into his spot beside him, enjoying the warm feel of the blankets already heated by Thomas’s body contrasting against the cool night air settling over the room before finally letting himself be lulled off by the rhythmic sound of Thomas’s snores.


	8. Nightmares and Daydreams

The deep golden hues of warm sunlight cascading across the dull gray floorboards of the darkened room let the drowsy Asian teen know he’d woken much later than usual as his dark eyes blinked against its brilliant light. He groaned against the radiant glow, a dull throb already pounding in his head, feeling like someone was slamming a sledgehammer behind his eyes, and the glimmering rays were doing nothing to alleviate the ache. The boy buried his face to avoid the reaching tendrils of light that plagued him, nuzzling into the warm softness that engulfed him without much thought, still too drunk with the haze of sleep to care about anything other than shielding his sensitive orbs. 

His pillow groaned, then shifted closer to him, jolting the Asian out of his contented daze as his eyes flew open once more and he came to realize the thing he’d nuzzled into was the pale skin of Thomas’s neck. The runner tensed, heat rushed to his cheeks and his heartbeat picked up drastically as he came to realize his position. 

His friend had squirmed his way flush up against Minho’s chest, long, lanky arms encircled his torso as muscled legs tangled with his. The smaller boy’s head rested against the other teen’s upper body, nestled in the center of the Korean’s chest, directly above his heart. His hot breath danced across the exposed skin there, leaving goosebumps in its airy wake. It might of been endearing, had Minho not been sure he could feel a line of drool leaking from the kid’s mouth and pooling onto him. 

However, the scene was no longer as shocking as it had been the day before, even if their position was a little more intimate, and Minho was able to refrain from leaping away from the boy as if he were the black plague this time. Instead, he attempted to carefully untangle himself from the other male, trying to shimmy his arm out from where it had been trapped beneath the younger teen’s head as he slowly tried to pull away from the loose embrace of the slumbering boy. 

Thomas whined softly in his sleep, pink lips turning downwards into a disgruntled frown as his pillow and heat source attempted to escape him, unconsciously tightening his grip on the other boy and squirming closer in protest. Minho froze, then huffed out a deep sigh of resignation, reluctantly halting his quest for freedom and bemoaningly accepting his cruel fate as a prisoner. He didn't want to wake his friend, especially not if the drum beat pounding behind his own eyes was anything compared to what the brunette would experience upon emerging from slumber. The best thing he could do for the boy was to let him sleep as long as possible, so that's what he would do - Even if it meant losing feeling in his pinned arm and being trapped to the confines of the cuddly boy’s clinging embrace for hours.

Having nothing else to do, Minho found himself watching Thomas sleep - Not in a creepy way! Like in a, platonic “I just happened to notice you're kinda cute when you snore” broish typa way. It wasn’t his fault the way the boy’s long lashes fluttered shut and hung gently over closed eyes was captivating. Nor was he in any way to blame for the fact that the way the brunette’s full, delicate lips twitched every once in awhile was mesmerizing. He certainly wasn't at fault for enjoying the way the worries and stress of daily life seemed to melt away from the male’s face, leaving his features soft and carefree as he snuggled up into Minho’s chest. 

He'd just never realized how vulnerable the boy could look, never really stopped to think about how fragile the smaller teen could be - Gally’s idiotic prank had changed something inside him. Made him realize Thomas could be lost. Could be stolen away from him. How would he live? He couldn't imagine a life without the flamboyant teen at his side, always making bad jokes that he didn't want to laugh at but somehow always did. Couldn't picture running in the mornings without the familiar rhythm of Thomas’s footsteps falling in time with his. Couldn't see his dumbass prankster ways working without his loyal partner in crime. He couldn't lose his best friend.

“Minho!” Thomas whimpered, jarring the older boy from his thoughts as his eyes shot down to his companion, searching for the cause of his sudden distress. The smaller boy let out a pitiful sound, somewhere between a whine and a sob and clung desperately to his friend, winding his arms tightly around him as if he might disappear if he let go. 

“Thomas!” Minho yelped, an edge of panic clearly evident in his voice as he looked around in confusion, bewildered as to why the boy suddenly seemed so upset. 

“Please…” Thomas begged, burying his face into the other boy's strong chest. “Don't go…” 

“Thomas, I'm not going anywhere.” Minho insisted urgently, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and shaking him slightly as he realized he was dreaming, but the action was to no avail. “Tommy, please. I promise, I'm not going anywhere.” He tried again, this time reaching down to cup the boy’s face in his hands, grasping him by the cheeks and forcing him to look him in the face in the hopes of getting through to him. Hazel eyes, blown wide in fear and glistening with unshed tears stared wildly into his, gazing right past him into someplace else as Thomas jerked against his grip and fought to scramble away but Minho leaned in closer, unrelenting.

“Thomas, I'm here.” The runner assured in a calm as voice as he could possibly manage when his friend was lost in some hallucinated horror. The smaller boy fought back weakly for a minute more but after a moment of looking fearfully into Minho’s dark eyes, the fight slowly drained out of him and his rapid breathing finally began to slow. 

“Minho?” Thomas breathed the name as a question, as if he couldn't quite force himself to believe the boy was actually sitting in front of him. 

“In the flesh.” Minho replied with a slight smirk tugging at his lips, finally letting his hands fall from the boys face but keeping them brushing against his side, getting the feeling Thomas would prefer him close at the moment. The brunette gazed at him blankly for a moment, then seemed to consider the answer, honey eyes turned down and lower lip between his teeth as he gnawed it gently in thought.

“Why?” The teen finally questioned, bringing his eyes back up to meet those of his friend, hazel orbs swimming with uncertainty as if part of him was still lost in that dream.

“Why what?” The Asian inquired slowly, confusion written all over his face as he waited patiently for his companion to elaborate.

“Why are you here?” Thomas stated blankly, as if the question had been obvious from the beginning despite the fact that his words hit Minho like a mactruck doing 80 on the freeway. 

He wanted to tell him he was there because Thomas was everything. Wanted to tell him that it was because he was fun and quirky. Wanted to tell him that his jokes were stupid but they were the only thing that made Minho smile after a day of shit. Wanted to tell him that his stupid grin was the best thing he’d ever seen and that, when he frowned, Minho would swim an ocean of thumbtacks to get that smile back. Wanted to tell him that Thomas had been there since the beginning, believing in him and supporting him when no-one else did, not even himself. Minho wanted to tell him that he was the shucking sun for Christ's sake. 

But, instead, he settled for, “You're my best friend.” The simple words spilling from his lips as no better way to even begin to say any of what he was feeling presented itself in his mind but Thomas seemed satisfied with that. The lingering fear drained from his sleep heavy orbs at the words, retreating until Minho was sure all of the boy had returned from whatever nightmare he’d been trapped in and he flopped back on the bed with a tired huff.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Minho asked the boy after a long moment of quiet passed, still keeping one hand rested on his companion’s leg even as he spoke. 

Thomas kept his gaze locked on the ceiling, staring intently at the blank expanse overhead as if it were the most interesting thing in the world as he stiffly shrugged his shoulders, avoiding his friend's searching gaze. 

The older boy returned the casual gesture reluctantly, willing to drop the conversation if it made his friend uncomfortable despite his curiosity. He pushed himself off the mattress to get on with his day, only to be caught suddenly by the wrist, long fingers wrapping around the limb and clinging tight as he brought his attention back to the boy who had broken off his staring contest with the ceiling in favor of gazing fearfully at Minho. 

Confusion flashed across the Asian boy's face momentarily, but he quickly came to the realization that him leaving must've reminded the brunette of his dream and immediately moved back to sit beside him on the bed. 

Thomas visibly relaxed slightly, but his hand stayed wrapped firmly around the older male's wrist even as he settled back into the mattress.  “You didn't want to hang out with me anymore.” The smaller teen confessed abruptly. “In my dream, I mean.” He clarified, locking eyes with his companion, his gaze searching Minho’s dark eyes as a small frown played on his lips. “You said I was annoying and you left.” The kid admitted, his voice dropping to a shaky whisper as his grip on Minho’s wrist tightened unconsciously, as if his hold could prevent the horror of his nightmare becoming a reality. 

“You're not annoying, Tom, and I won't leave.” Minho assured comfortingly, bringing his free hand to where Thomas still gripped his wrist and running a soothing thumb along the top of the boy's hand. The smaller boy looked thoughtful for a moment, brow furrowed in concentration, before finally he released a small sigh, visibly relaxing as his eyes fluttered shut and tension seemed to drain from his limbs. 

“I know.” The teen finally stated surley, reopening his hazel eyes slightly until he was looking at his friend contentedly through half-lidded orbs. “You like me, right, Min?” He questioned softly, assuring Minho the other boy remembered nothing of the previous night, since he'd already asked that.

“Of course I do.” The Korean boy replied once more, tensing slightly as he remembered what had spilled from the boys lips the previous evening after that had been said. “No homo, though.” He quickly added, realizing what his words could imply and refusing to think of the  possibility of those implications.

“Good.” Thomas whispered, the word stretched out in a yawn as the boy blinked tiredly, his nightmare having woke him much earlier than he intended to rise. He paused then, opening his lips then closing them again as if he wanted to say something more but thought better of it, biting the light pink flesh in consideration before rolling onto his side. 

“No homo.” The smaller boy finally mumbled after a moment, the afterthought slurred slightly as sleep began to creep over him and Minho found himself stroking a soothing hand over wild brown hair until his companion’s breathing slowed once more.

After he was sure Thomas had fallen back asleep, Minho quickly got dressed before creeping silently out of the bedroom and retreating to the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle of whatever cheap beer had been on sale at Wal-Mart that weekend. He popped the cap of the drink off and brought it to his lips as he wandered into the living room and flopped listlessly onto the old tattered couch that sat in the near empty area, held together with patches and cotton stuffing spilling out at the seams. 

There was a cheap T.V. positioned on the ground in front of the antique piece of furniture and a low rising, wooden coffee table sat between the two. Aside from that, the dull room was bare save for the thick layer of dust that settled over everything and a few cardboard boxes left to sit in the corner until they got bored enough to unpack them. 

The teen grabbed a remote off the splintering table before him and flicked on the television, clicking through channels until he landed on the sports station, which was showing a football game between two teams he'd never heard of.

Minho left it there, not because he cared about football or anything but because he was a teenage boy and that's what teenage boys did. They drank cheap beer and watched football on Sundays. They also liked girls. Minho liked girls. At least, that's what he kept telling himself, even if he had watched lesbian porn for three hours straight the other night and gotten absolutely nowhere. 

The whole time, against his will his mind kept drifting back to Thomas. Thomas after track practice, panting as sweat dripped from messy hair and face flushed from exertion. Thomas, stepping out if the showers in the gym, shirt clinging to his still wet body, showing off every curve as water droplets still clung to long lashes. Thomas, pinned against a wall, lips tangled with his, smothering moans as desperate hands wormed their way under shirts, hips pushed against hips, grinding against each other- 

“Who's playing?” The familiar voice of his best friend suddenly interrupted the fantasy, causing Minho to literally shriek as if his friend could somehow see his thoughts and catch him.

“No homo!” Minho sputtered out on instinct squeezing his eyes shut and mentally cursing himself, trying to rid his mind of the unwanted thoughts. He wasn't gay. He liked boobs. Boobs. Boobs. Boob. Boo. Bo. Boy. Boys. NO! 

“Huh. I don't think I've heard of that team.” Thomas scoffed, shaking his head slightly and giving his friend a confused look but Minho barely noticed any of that as he finally forced himself to actually look at the younger male. 

The teen was still in his burgundy boxers, apparently having forgone the social expectation of wearing pants when in the company of others, and had merely grabbed a t-shirt to cover himself with. However, Minho was getting the impression that the boy had still been half asleep, still was if the messy hair and squinting eyes were anything to go by, and must've just grabbed the first shirt he saw because it hung loosely over his lithe frame and the hem fell all the way down to his lower thighs. More importantly, it was Minho’s track jersey, his name was even written across the back of it in huge, bold, red lettering, but Thomas didn't seem bothered by that at all as he stretched an arm over his head in a long yawn and rubbed tiredly at his right eye before shuffling over to the couch. 

He plopped himself on the arm rest of the crappy piece of furniture, turned sideways and kicked his legs listlessly as he leaned back on his elbows and watched the game for all of five minutes before pulling out his phone. The familiar sound of Candy Crush met Minho’s ears as he leaned back against the couch and sipped lightly at his beer, forcing his heart rate to return to normal as he watched players he didn't know the names of run around on the screen. 

They stayed like that for sometime and it was nice, just relaxing with his best friend on a Sunday, throwing jokes back and forth every few minutes and snickering about old times. Every time someone scored a touchdown Thomas would look up and whoop victoriously, no matter which team it was and Minho would laugh and try to shove him off his perch on the arm rest. 

“I love you, Min.” Thomas snickered nonchalantly at some point, pushing himself back into position after Minho had knocked him off his seat, looking down at his phone and smiling lightly as he won another round of his game. 

“I love you too.” Minho responded automatically, turning his focus back to the football match as the announcer screamed that it had all come down to this. It sounded so natural, felt so normal, that for a long moment he didn't realize… He picked up his beer, brought the bottle to his lips and took a long, hearty swig - Then promptly choked, spraying the golden liquid everywhere as he shot straight up, dark eyes wide as realization sucker punched him in the stomach. 

“You didn't say-” Minho sputtered, leaning forward and coughing

“You didn't either!” Thomas yelped defensively, springing from his perch and ducking behind the arm rest, peering only just over the edge of the tattered cloth at his friend. 

Minho stared at Thomas. Thomas stared at Minho.

“Oh my god.” Thomas groaned, looking fearful as he raked his hands through his untamed hair. “We're gay, aren't we? We're shucking gay, aren't we, Minho?” He wailed, slamming his head defeatedly into the fraying armrest.

“Gayer than a pride parade.” Minho replied numbly, staring straight ahead, dark eyes blown wide as he struggled to process the revelation. 

Finally, he turned his gaze to where Thomas still crouched behind the armrest, looking expectantly at him, honey eyes wide and uncertain and… Maybe a little hopeful. 

He leaned toward the boy, unsure of what he was about to do but moving forward on instinct nevertheless, as if his body was on autopilot. 

Thomas watched him anxiously, looking nervous, but not pulling away as his companion moved ever closer, crawling across the couch until his face was inches away from the other boys. 

Minho hesitated, tilting his head slightly as he leaned forward but stopping when his lips were mere centimeters away from the quivering pink ones of the smaller male. He could feel Thomas's hot breath mingling with his own, urging him onward, until finally he surged forward and closed the distance between them.

Thomas’s lips were soft against his own, warm and inviting as he tentatively moved his mouth against the other boy’s, feeling his companion’s hands find their way to his shirt and twist into the loose material, keeping him close as he did so. Those perfect lips parted slightly as the Korean boy tentatively probed his searching tongue between them, eliciting a soft whine from the younger boy, urging him on. 

He explored the other male’s mouth freely, tasting him and trying to memorize the exact flavor and feel of this moment. 

Thomas pushed back into him, tentative at first, but soon using his grip on the older boy's shirt to pull him closer, deepening the kiss and moaning softly against the Asian’s lips as his own tongue roamed the expanse of the Korean’s mouth.

Minho’s first kiss was nothing like what he’d been expecting, like the movies and books had always promised, but, then again, he hadn't been expecting to be moaning into the lips of another boy, let alone his best friend. 

Thomas did not taste of roses and chocolate like in the love stories the Asian’s mother had raised him on - No, the boy tasted of stale booze and cold pizza… But, somehow, that was better. Thomas tasted familiar,  _ right. _ While it was a far cry from anything Minho had been expecting, Thomas was the flavor of home.

When they finally were forced to part for air, they could do nothing but stare at one another for a long moment, unsure of what to say. Thomas’s lips were red and swollen from Minho’s assault on them, but his honey eyes sparkled excitedly and those abused lips spread into a smile as he leaned forward to press them gently against Minho’s, the soft and gentle touch a stark contrast from the ferocity of the previous kiss, but Minho found he enjoyed it just his much. The older teen’s heart fluttered as he kissed back slowly, tugging at Thomas’s lower lip gently with his teeth before breaking apart. 

“Yes homo?” Minho questioned with a snicker, unable to stop thinking about how stupid they had been to think that two meaningless words could erase their feelings and unable to get over the fact that they could've been doing this all along. 

“Dude, so homo.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading ~ If you enjoyed, please leave comments :)


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